#these two finding soft comfort in each other ;_;

[suguann]

✎. he tells you they’re the problem and leaves it at that before sliding a plate of eggs and toast in front of you.

tags. fem!reader, mild dubcon, possessive and obsessive behavior, but he's also kinda sweet?? [18+ only]

You like your new roommate.

Simon’s surprisingly better to have around than the last person who lived with you—a girl you knew from college who had an affinity for stealing your clothes and conveniently never had money for rent. He’s the type to make you soup when you’re sick, acknowledge you if you’re in the same room, water your flowers while he rolls his cigarettes on the fire escape, and carry your groceries up the four flights of stairs to your floor. 

He’s attractive, too, in the not-so-conventional sense, but in a disarming way, all small smiles and knowing looks and soft hair you know he doesn’t put much effort into—that sometimes curls around his ears when he lets it get too long—yet it still manages to look better than yours on the best days. 

He never tells you what he does for work, and you’re too polite to ask. But you have a feeling he makes enough to afford a place on the less crime-infested side of town—somewhere nicer than your cramped apartment with its outdated appliances, leaky faucets, and the bright neon sign atop the building across the street that shines through your windows all times of the day—but he says he’s not ready to live alone.

Something tells you there’s more to it than him being a lonely bachelor, but again, you don’t pry.

“Does this place have wi-fi?” is all he’d said the first time you meet, in a voice so smooth and only slightly broken up by his accent, clad in a shirt that looked two sizes too small around his arms and clutching a duffle bag in one big hand. 

Your brain was this shaken-up box of words and syllables that when you answered him, it came out in a nervous stutter. “Y-yeah, I’ll, er…I’ll give it to you—the password, I mean—once you've moved in. If that’s okay.”

He’d dropped his duffle bag in front of the room that would be his. “Consider me moved in.”

The smile he gave you, crinkling eyes and chuckling lightly, only made the stutter worse. 

You let his charm roll off you; you always figured it came naturally to him, a characteristic that comes with being attractive and good.

A handful of months later—of finding a routine around each other and lazy smiles in the morning—something changes the night you go out with a guy Mary from work eagerly sets you up with. 

His name’s Robb, he’s a doctor, and you both love cats; he has a house in Spain. Did I mention he's my cousin?

(A dull no way concealed behind your teeth.

If you hadn’t said yes, you feared your entire lunch break would consist of her waxing poetic over a man you're unsure about meeting.)

For a flicker of a moment, there’s an unreadable expression on Simon’s face as he watches you touch up your makeup in the hallway mirror and slip your hand into the crook of your date’s elbow at the door. There’s a slight glint of something uncharacteristically cold behind the mask of indifference before a small smile replaces it.

“Have a nice night,” you throw over your shoulder, except you don’t notice that he never says it back.

You mope around the apartment when Robb—who surprisingly exceeded your expectations of mediocre dates, not that you ever plan on admitting that to Mary—doesn’t reach out to you for three days. Then a week. You’re at that age to understand when people get busy, and a nice night doesn’t always mean it’s mutually reciprocated. But you liked him, and it felt promising after he’d kissed you goodnight against your front door. 

It had to have been the kiss that turned him off. Maybe he realized it was too much too soon.

When Simon finds you curled up in a ball under your comforter, one thumb gently wiping away your tears, he doesn’t even bring up your date. Instead, he orders your favorite take-out and puts on a sitcom you’d mentioned to him once—somewhat surprised that he remembers—the dreamy doctor who’d ghosted you blissfully forgotten with greasy food and a warm, comforting chest to rest your head on.

Simon’s there again—sweets in hand and a soft voice to soothe you—when another date (Rin from finance on your floor) a month later is a no-show, and a few weeks after that when Rin tells you without context that he can’t see you anymore. 

The third time of let downs feels worse. It’s worse because maybe there’s something wrong with you, and when you ask Simon, he’s too nice to rub salt in your wounds. He tells you they’re the problem and leaves it at that before sliding a plate of eggs and toast in front of you.

You've been Simon's roommate for a year, and he doesn't take it well when you tell him you're looking for a new place.

It’s after he comes home from a three-month work trip. The shadow that crosses over his face should’ve been your first hint that something is wrong.

Had you noticed the signs sooner, you wonder if you’d be less like prey caught by the softness of your underbelly, kept in place by the scruff, and sharp teeth at your neck.

"Beg me. Beg me not to cum in you."

"S-Simon," you whimper wetly, "don't cum in—ah—me."

His fingers hold your chin with an unyielding grip, ensuring your gaze doesn’t stray from his in the cracked mirror. You’re embarrassed by what you see, how spread open you are to his dark, inkwell eyes hungrily watching as you twitch when his other hand slides between your thighs.

"Don’t stop begging, love,” he growls, squeezing you tighter, “or I might forget."

There’s that dark look again, the one that sends a shivery feeling up your spine, possessive almost with how he traces every inch of you as if burning the image of you into his memory, the softness washed away by something more sinister. 

A little voice in the back of your head tells you to flee, but another knows he'd find joy in catching you. 

No one would ever think your sweet, attractive roommate would be the same man staring at you now—everything you thought you knew about him stripped away to reveal a new canvas, bare for splashes of paint to fill in the cracks—teeth marks imprinted along the curve of your jaw, on the inside of your thighs.

He hides it well. His humble personality doing the trick of being the impenetrable mask for what he’s concealing underneath: a raw obsession, an addict finally getting his hands on his favorite drug, someone who can’t recognize defeat and knows how to take.

“What do they have that I don’t? Hm? Must be a desperate little thing. My pretty slut,” Simon’s voice rumbles low against your ear, shy of unhinged. “They won’t treat you as good as I do. Don’t I treat you good?”

You whimper when his grip grows tighter, but he doesn’t seem to notice—like he’s not fully here with you. No trace of the soft, gentle man who keeps the freezer full of your favorite ice cream, who runs to the store when you run out of tampons and comes back with chocolate and a new pair of fuzzy socks. A few words have turned him into someone you don’t know. Perhaps you never did.

“Answer me.”

An indiscernible  squeak is the only sound you make. 

He chuckles darkly, his head dipping down to rest his lips against the fluttering pulse in your neck, a finger slipping through the alarming amount of wetness between your thighs where his cock rends you down the middle, and begins rubbing firm, tight circles over your clit, pulling a moan from your throat. 

“It’s okay, love,” he mumbles, words barely audible above your heartbeat swimming in your ears. “I’ll be everything for you. Everything you need. I’ll show you why I’m better.”

[teddybeartoji]

彡 FEEDING AS A FORM OF LOVE

☆. contains: 18+ mdni; tiger hybrid!ryomen sukuna x housecat hybrid gn!reader x toji fushiguro; ???? they eat raw meat hehe, this is just very horny, dubcon-ish moments? tjkn, also. sukuna is down bad. wc: 2k

toji takes good care of the both of you. he goes out of his way to make sure that his cats are well fed. every morning he goes to the market to buy the best quality meat – the blonde haired butcher already knows him, he's ready for him. they exchange a few words over the cuts and wish each other well. they're friends.

back at home, his two cats wait for him. kuna's wet, rough tongue runs up and down alongside the side of your neck, your jaw, your chin. this is another part of your morning routine – he grooms and cleans you, gets you ready for toji. sure, he loves it when you do the same to you, but there's something addicting about the way you try to squirm away from his love.

the door clicks open, signaling that toji is finally home and you immediately try to look for him but kuna's grip on your middle is just too strong.

"ryo..." your tiny hands push at his broad chest and he's about to tell you to be quiet but his thoughts get interrupted by the smell of fresh meat. his body reacts all on its own, he can't help it. the irony, bloody scent enters his nostrils and he lets out a deep groan; the vibrations of it run through your own body and your thighs tighten around his waist subconsciously. a few feet away – toji taps his foot impatiently, mossy eyes sticking to the pair before him. he takes in the sight of sukuna towering over you, almost covering you fully with his massive body. he hates how hard the size difference makes him – you look fucking tiny next to kuna and you look even smaller when you're down on your knees between his thighs, when his heavy cock rests on your face.

(but toji wants to play with you, too. there's no way he'll ever just let him have you.)

at the sound of toji clearing his throat, sukuna pulls back with a smirk. you look disheveled and he wants to laugh – he was just trying to clean you up, wasn't he? silly kitty. he'll have to do it all over again later.

when he does finally let you swivel out from under him, you waste no time in running to toji. you nuzzle your face into his chest, his arms and back, as a way of letting him know that you missed him, despite the fact that he was gone only for an half an hour or so. he likes the attention; he sends kuna a tempting smirk while patting your head as the latter pushes himself to sit up on the couch.

toji's musk and the smell of the red meat, kuna's saliva on your neck, the tingling marks he left on your hips – it's all sending heat waves to your lower tummy. a different type of hunger. your fuzzy tail twirls around toji's bicep and he grumbles something under his breath. you don't hear it. you're busy closing your eyes and rubbing your face into his back muscles instead. a purr rumbles from your chest and toji's scarred lips stretch even wider; this is normal for them – to be squabbling over you, their little kitty.

(you love it.)

"c'mon, ya gotta eat, yeah?"

toji's voice is so soothing, so comforting; you want to sit on his lap forever. his eyes are soft when he looks at you, incredibly so, and that makes sukuna's ears tilt backward with a scoff. don't you know he looks at you the same way?

(kind of the same way anyway.)

kuna's tail finds yours and you inch closer to him as you make your way to the dinner table. you bump your head against his arm and he rasps out a "brat". you grin up at him and he thinks about eating you instead.

taking seats opposite of each other, you wait for toji to place the meals in front of you. the smell is intoxicating. your insides grumble and so do his, your teeth itch and so do his. his nose twitches at the sound of toji throwing the pieces onto the platter and then he can already see him approaching from the corner of his eye.

raw. bloody. awaiting.

it's almost the size of the damn platter – it's barely enough for him. he's big and he needs to eat big, but he'll complain about it later. sometime when toji's distracted by your pretty face, sometime when he can easily whisper into his ear, sometime when he's just about ready to say yes to everything. he's not as strong as he makes himself out to be.

kuna eyes the cut toji places in front of you. a small smile etches its way onto your lips and he can see the hunger in your eyes. but then he can't help but compare the two of you. your heights, the sizes of your meals. you're just a little cat, eating a portion that's a mere sliver out of his own. you're going to bite it, you're going to chew and you're going to look adorable.

a tug on his fuzzy tail snaps his out of his head. "stop starin'."

his ears tilt back again at the sight of toji's mocking smirk, but he holds back on the bark. he wants to eat already.

and so he does.

lunging at the platter, he grabs the piece of meat into his hands as if his meal is still alive, as if it's going to run away. his sharp claws sink into the soft flesh and you can't pull your eyes from him. you watch as he tears a chuck off of it, you watch him gnaw on it with his big teeth. his chin is covered in the liquid that seeps from the fresh meat, it trickles down his jaw and neck before disappearing under his open-collared shirt.

he always eats like this. messily.

always.

his teeth are so much bigger than yours are, and you're painfully aware of that when you lick the canines in your mouth. you're salivating. drool collects under your tongue as you stare and stare and stare. your breathing has picked up a little, your heart racing in your ribcage and you've started to lean forward a bit too. you don't even realize how he's pulling you in.

but toji...

toji can't stop looking at you.

he's leaning against the kitchen counter just a few feet away and his heart races the same way yours does. he couldn't care any less for kuna in this very moment, his eyes are fixated on the little kitty creeping toward the feral beast. he sees the little tilt of your head, the way your tail sways from side to side, the slight twitch of your ears as you listen to the man in front of you eat his heart out. toji is just as transfixed by the sight before him as you are.

(this is love.)

eyes blown wide, your lips part on instict when sukuna goes for another bite.

mouth still full, he splutters. "look at you, little kitty."

you blink up at him, unsure where he's going with this.

"is the piece too big for you and your measly, tiny teeth?"

he chews loudly just to push you even further, teasing eyes glued to your wide ones. "want toji to cut it up for you since you can't do it yourself?"

it's not like you're eating a meal like this for the first time - the difference being the fact that he can smell you right now. something is happening in that brain of yours, in the depths of your stomach and kuna desires to take you apart and take a proper look. are you really getting turned on by just watching him eat? do you like it? do you love it? are you pushing your thighs together right now? are you thinking about him devouring you like this?

surprise fades from your eyes and you furrow your brows instead. you're not scared of him, nor will you let him tease you like this. your teeth are not measly, you are not little! you can eat just like him and you will prove it to him!

his bloody grin stretches wider when he sees the fight in you build. he did half expect you to pout and sulk a little, but this is a million times better. he likes a challenge, he likes it when you scratch and hiss. his tail sways a bit faster at the thought, his eyes grow bigger.

sukuna knows that toji wants to see this as well. he knows he likes your snarky attitude as much as he does. he knows he's half hard in his pants right now.

he's about to mock you some more but when your tiny teeth pierce the raw flesh, his words get stuck in his throat. you're holding the cut just like he is, nails sinking into it just like his are. juice flows like water down your hands and forearms, your jaw and neck and something in him burns. your nose scrunches up in the cutest way as you continue to chomp down on the meat, pulling and tearing pieces after pieces from it.

he can see you struggling just a bit – your teeth still aren't sharp enough, big enough, to really be like him but he doesn't comment on it. you hold onto his gaze like it's life or death; he will watch you eat.

the grip toji has on the countertop is almost enough to break the damn thing. just like sukuna, he's mesmerized by the glorious sight before him – messy and borderline feral. they're watching their beloved housecat turn into a feral one in real time and it's the most erotic thing either of them have ever seen.

pinkish liquid coats the entirety of the lower half of your face, it keeps trickling down your arms – there's no end to it. it tastes so fucking good.

and then they hear it.

a purr.

at first toji thinks that it's sukuna but it's way to weak to be him, which means it's... coming from you.

their eyes on you feel almost overwhelming, the taste is divine and you feel fucking amazing. thighs clenching together and tail swaying low behind you, you hum as you swallow another piece.

the chair screeches against the floorboards and you don't even have the time to react, head hazy from everything that's going on, so the next thing you know, big hands grab your face and tilt it upward - kuna's tongue presses through your willing lips as he licks into your mouth. it's so big, it's so prickly, it feels weird. it feels... like heaven.

he can taste you and the meal you just had, he can taste your every want and desire. he scratches behind your ear with his nails and he feels you melt into him. his little cat.

he wants to go further but a strong shove against his shoulder stops him from doing so.

"move."

you can't even open your eyes properly before another pair of hands cradle your jaw and lean forward to close the distance between you. lips on lips, you feel his scar and the smile he gives you. your tongues dance together. dirty fingers paw at toji's lower stomach and he grumbles into your mouth. hungry.

more, more, more.

warmth engulfs toji's back and kuna's sharp claws trail over the waistband of toji's pants while he leaves sloppy, wet kisses on the nape of his neck. their hips are flush together and toji can feel kuna's raging boner pressing up against his ass.

but that doesn't matter right now.

sukunas fingers card through toji's dark, unruly hair as he drops down to the floor and kneels between your thighs without ever breaking the kiss. his hands glide from your cheeks to your neck, pulling you deeper into him with a swift motion. he's hungry, too.

he squeezes the tops of your thighs, and you whine into his mouth. so sensitive. he tugs on the waistband of your shorts, eager fingers dipping under the fabric in excitement—

it's his time to eat now.

+ thank you @lxnarphase for hyping me up i love you sm lunniee:333

[peppertoastuniverse]

pep reads: geto suguru – long fics

But dang, i didnt realise we were all so thirsty for geto the brainrot is so real

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

☆ as we walk by cerialilith [AO3] [status: unknown ◦ 29/? chapters] [singledad!geto] [slow burn] [eventual smut!] [nocurses!AU] #sweet, softest sugu

He only loves two things in life: the scent of coffee and his daughter. But perhaps he can make a few adjustments.

— In which the single mother across the hall manages to catch Geto’s eye without him realizing it.

☆Temptations by @peachsayshi [AO3/tumblr] [status: ongoing ◦ 5/6 chapters] [ smut!] [nocurses!AU] #sugu treats you RIGHT #pep MELTED Suguru Geto is a playboy. A man who's had more lovers than he can even count. You've never been in a relationship, not even experiencing a real kiss when you first meet Suguru. But the two of you fall for each other, and you know that he's the one you want to experience all your firsts with.

☆ Breathe Me In by lovelied [AO3] [status: completed ◦ 5/5 chapters] [smut!] #pep love this characterization of Suguru Desperate for distraction, a troubled Suguru Geto began inviting you over each night. It began as a casual arrangement, but over time, you found yourself yearning for him in ways you couldn’t quite explain.

☆The good morrow by @temozarela [AO3/tumblr] [status: ongoing? ◦ 2/? Collection of fics] [smut!] #pep’s comfort fic

You narrowed your eyebrows as you felt your body being jolted, large hands gripping your face, and then your shoulders. Groaning softly, you turned in your sleep, trying to make sense of the voice fading in and out of your brain. It didn’t sound like it was from your dream… It was hushed… low… soft…

It sounded like your name.

aka.

geto finds you after his defection to say goodbye

☆ Mascara by softsellars [AO3] [status: unknown ◦ 5/7 chapters] [smut!] [tw!cheating] [nocurses!AU] [artist!suguru] #complex reader, patient sugu

You've never been a particularly good person, you're self-aware enough to know it. It's your only flaw, and recently you've actually been working to better yourself.

For example: paying for a 30-dollar Uber so you can take your friend home only for her to ditch you for some guy when it comes down to it. Although you’re pissed, you decide to try and make the best of it instead of get into a screaming match with her.

It's an easy thing to do when Getou Suguru is offering you everything to do just that. Everything a party entails: liquor, weed, and sex with a perfect stranger.

And Getou knows perfectly well you have a boyfriend, so it's not like he'll want anything serious.

***Porn with a little plot

☆ Whisper of the Petals by @nanamis-baker [tumblr!] [status: on going ◦ 2/? chapters] [slow burn] [College!AU] #SO SO SWEET #sugu with dumb feelings

A mystery blooms on your doorstep. A breathtaking bouquet of white flowers, a silent whisper of apology... but it's not for you. Delivered under the name of a man so handsome he takes your breath away, the mix-up sets your heart racing.

Fate seems determined to keep throwing you together, and soon you're caught in a whirlwind of chance encounters and undeniable chemistry. It was almost as if it was trying to bring you together. ☆ AFFECTION'S EDGE by @rush-the-stars [AO3/tumblr] [status: completed ◦ 3/3 chapters] [omega!verse] #THE INTENSITY?!

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he murmurs, “but what am I to expect from a stray like you? You’ve lived off scraps and abuse your whole life; of course you don’t know what to do now that I’ve given you food and shelter.” Suguru’s fingers ease up towards your neck as he continues, “a warm bed to lie in. Toys to play with. A collar—so you’ll never be lost again. No one’s ever given you this before, hm?”

*** Suguru tries to tame you.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

bonus!

☆ Musubi by Penrose_Quinn [AO3] [status: unknown ◦ 2/? chapters] #LOVE THE CHEMISTRY

Then there was a quiet shrewdness in the way he carried himself. You would call it cocky, but this one proved to be more poised and collected on how things would unfold for him. Framed with the anchor of his composure, legs stretched out in front of him but not overly laid-back, and his mind – whatever unfathomable brilliance that dwelt underneath – was unperturbed, self-assured. You wouldn’t claim to have known him entirely though like this, Suguru looked more like himself. “But you won’t disappear,” he concluded. “Not yet anyway.” You gave in to a hum. “You’re really making it tempting for me to leave you hanging on nothing.” Suguru listened, waiting. His pursuit was a game of patience and you chased after the gamble.

Or: the string of each encounter was an entanglement to what brought you closer to him, twisted in each other’s darkness, torn and tied back together throughout the years.

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (15/?)

Part Summary: You and Leigh go on your first date, and nothing goes as planned.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 10.700+ | Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Smut | Author's note: The date chapter is finally here! It's basically Leigh and R getting to know each other. But beware of the tags ;) Thank you for being so patient! Please enjoy :) Only one or two more chapters to go!

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV

-

Your mouth forms a perfect ‘O’ as you come, Leigh's fingers moving deftly down your jeans. She is entranced by the sight of you falling apart in her hands, torn between kissing you and watching as you ride the final waves of your orgasm.

The moment she opened the front door and saw you, she couldn't resist. You’re dressed in a loose white button-down shirt, open at the chest to reveal the collarbones she recently discovered she’s so fond of. The sleeves are rolled up to your elbows, and your boot-cut jeans fit perfectly, accentuating all the right places, especially at the back. The subtle scent of your perfume, sweet and intoxicating like chocolate, drifted across the room, pulling her closer. Without a second thought, she grabbed you by the collar, kissing you deeply as she pulled you into the kitchen.

“You're so beautiful,” Leigh whispers, her breath hot against your ear. Her eyes are locked onto your face, mesmerized.

You gasp, your body tensing as you reach the peak. “Leigh, please” you breathe out, shifting uncomfortably. The tight confines of your jeans restrict your movement. Sure, they make your figure look fantastic, but at moments like this, you question if it's really worth it.

Leigh's lips hover just above yours, her fingers still working their magic. “I can't decide,” she murmurs, her voice low and husky.

“Decide what?” you ask, your voice quivering.

“Whether I want to kiss you or keep watching you like this,” she replies, her eyes dark with desire.

Your hands find their way to her shoulders, pulling her closer. “Both,” you whisper. “Do both.”

-

As you both recover, you adjust your clothes, tucking your blouse back into the waistband of your pants. Still catching your breath, you glance at Leigh, who is already rinsing her fingers under the running water of the sink.

“What was that for?” you ask, your voice still a bit breathless.

Leigh grins, glancing over her shoulder at you. “Payback for last week.” 

She moves around the espresso machine, then says, “By the way, I'm really sorry,” as if she hadn’t been driving you to an intense climax just minutes ago. “I can’t believe I overslept.”

You lean casually against the counter, your legs still weak from coming so hard, thoroughly entertained by her stream of apologies and quietly thrilled that she cares so much. The bagels you brought—laden with lox and a thick layer of cream cheese—wait patiently between you.

“It’s really okay,” you say, watching her make a fuss. Catching her hand as she goes for another apology, you squeeze it gently. “You… more than made up for it.”

She has the good grace to blush, a soft smile breaking through her earlier fretfulness. “Thanks for waiting,” he says, her voice still a little hoarse and, somehow, even more beguiling. “I’ve been looking forward to today. I guess last night just took more out of me than I thought.”

“You don’t say,” you tease lightly, observing the casual disarray of her hair and the relaxed hang of her clothes—it’s Leigh unplugged, and you’re increasingly fond of this version. 

Leigh's eyes shift to the side, landing on the two take-out lattes you had bought earlier, now sitting forlornly on the counter. She grimaces slightly as she realizes they've gone cold—leftovers from your long wait outside her house, where it hasn’t stopped raining. 

“Oh, you brought coffee too,” she husks out. “And I made you wait…”

“Yeah, I might have been a bit optimistic about the timing,” you say.

Leigh gives you a long, scrutinizing look, clearly baffled by your patience.

“I don’t get it,” she says, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Get what?”

“It’s just—I’m clumsy, you know? I forget things. I’m always late to appointments. I keep expecting you to realize how dysfunctional I am and run off,” she jokes, though her eyes tell a different story. The coffee maker gurgles, signaling that the brew is ready. She moves to pour the coffee, her shoulders tense, hesitating before speaking again. “But you don’t. You just... stay. And I don’t understand why.”

You watch her pour the coffee, the steam rising in soft curls. “I stay because I love you, Leigh,” you say simply. You’ve told her that three—maybe four—times now. Not that you’re counting, but each time it gets a little easier to say. And you hope, for her, it gets a little easier to hear.

She hasn't said it back, and while you’re unsure if she feels the same, you know she cares—maybe not enough to utter those three words yet, but enough to be here now. Her accepting this date, spending this day with you, it’s a concession you wouldn’t trade for the world.

Leigh's gaze flickers, eyes widening a touch, lips parting as though words are on the brink of breaking free. You hold your breath, waiting for whatever she might reveal. But then, she blinks—like she's snapping back from a distant thought—and quietly turns to pour another cup, her glance drifting off as she collects herself. 

She hands you a steaming mug, her fingertips brushing yours. You take it from her carefully, feeling the warmth seep through your fingers, spreading a comforting heat up your arms. 

“Thanks,” you say, your voice low, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth as you take a slow sip.

Leigh watches you over her own cup, her eyelashes casting long shadows on her cheeks as she takes a tentative sip. Words have the power to bring things into being, and for Leigh, speaking things into existence feels like an indelible commitment—a promise carved into stone. 

But maybe some things are beloved even before they ever take shape.

-

After breakfast, you both head to The Beautiful Beast to drop off Logan. Jules is happy to take care of him, as the house is empty with Amy away on a trip with friends. With Logan settled, you and Leigh head to the art exhibit you had tickets for.

Inside the exhibit, you find yourselves packed tightly among the throngs of people. The crowd presses in, and while the vivid artwork is a distraction, the constricted room makes it tough to fully enjoy the pieces. Far from the tech hubs and arts districts, the local community jumps at anything that breaks the monotony of their usual scene. Moreover, today’s rain has chased everyone indoors, turning this rare cultural event into a magnet for locals starved for something different. With the parks soggy and deserted, people had the choice between shopping malls or here.

As you and Leigh wade through the crowded gallery, people jostle for space, elbows occasionally colliding with your sides as they vie for a better view of the vibrant installations. Suddenly, a passerby brushes against you, nearly pulling you away from Leigh. Instinctively, you snatch her hand, holding fast for dear life. In the confusion, unsuspecting of the sudden tug, Leigh loses her footing. Her thick heel comes down hard on your foot, and you yelp in pain. Tears spring to your eyes, and you try to hold back a cry, but the pain is sharp and persistent.

“Sorry, sorry!” Leigh's cheeks flush with mortification as she quickly steps back. “Are you okay?”

Trying to brush it off with a grimace that's more a wince, you manage a weak smile. 

“I'll live,” you say, half-joking, even as you gingerly test your foot. “But I think that was my cue to start wearing steel-toed boots around you.” 

Despite herself, Leigh chuckles. “I'm really sorry,” she laments, reaching out to gently squeeze your arm. “Let's find a place to sit, okay?”

You cautiously try a step, hopeful but hesitant. The sharp pain bites, making you flinch, and you end up limping. Immediately, Leigh slips her arm around your waist to stabilize you.

“Let's find someone to help you get to a first-aid station,” she suggests, eyeing your gait with concern.

“But the exhibit?” you protest weakly, looking longingly back at the art you were both eager to see.

Leigh gives you a wry smile. “I'm more worried they might have to amputate your foot,” she jokes, successfully coaxing a laugh out of you. Yet, as you chuckle, you wince again, putting weight on your foot without thinking.

Noticing your discomfort, Leigh guides you gently towards the front of the gallery. Soon, you're at the information booth, where a helpful attendant offers you an ice pack and points you to a bench near the entrance. As you try to get comfortable on the small bench, you struggle to keep the ice pack properly positioned on your foot, repeatedly bending down in an awkward dance of readjustment. 

“Here, just put your foot on my lap,” she suggests, patting her lap lightly. 

You start to object, not wanting to impose, but before you can finish your sentence, Leigh decisively grabs your leg and guides it onto her lap. She starts massaging the sole of your foot while holding the ice pack firmly against the swollen area. It's a simple, caring gesture, and you can't help but watch Leigh as she focuses on making you feel better. 

When she looks up and catches you staring, she smirks. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You shake your head slightly, a small smile playing on your lips. “I just didn't think we'd end up back here, and we haven't even seen a third of the art yet,” you say.

Leigh laughs softly. “It's okay, the exhibits weren't all that impressive anyway,” she says. “Besides, I was starting to feel claustrophobic there.”

A twinge of disappointment pulls at you. You’d been excited about the exhibit, about sharing something you thought would be cool and sophisticated. With your foot throbbing and Leigh’s less-than-enthused review, the day feels like it’s stumbled right out of the gate.

Leigh notices your sudden quiet and nudges you gently. “What's wrong?”

“I just thought you’d be into this. I was almost entirely sure,” you say, avoiding her gaze.

“I am,” Leigh says, still holding your foot. “I love exhibits, but right now, my top priority is spending time with you.”

You blush at that. “We are spending time—”

She cuts you off with a small laugh. “I mean, like, actually talking. It’s hard to have a conversation when we’re constantly moving and trying to look at everything.”

You mull that over, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

A comfortable silence settles between you, the kind that feels more like understanding than emptiness. Then, out of the blue, Leigh asks, “So, how did you end up being an animal doctor?”

You’re startled by her sudden question, but it’s a welcome distraction from your foot and the disappointing exhibit. 

“It’s a bit of a long story,” you start. 

“I’ve got time,” she says with a smirk.

You take a deep breath and lean back on the bench, feeling more comfortable as your leg rests on Leigh’s lap. Her foot massage is so soothing, it’s almost putting you into a sleepy state. 

“Well, I always loved animals. My parents used to joke that I’d bring home every stray if I could. But it wasn’t until I volunteered at a local shelter in high school that I realized it was what I wanted to do with my life.”

Leigh tilts her head and smiles. “That’s sweet. What was it about the shelter that made you decide?”

“It was this one dog,” you say, your voice catching and your eyes getting misty. “A scrappy little terrier mix named Max. He’d been through so much, but he still had so much love to give. Helping him heal and find a forever home—it just clicked. That’s when I knew I wanted to help as many animals as I could.”

Leigh looks at you with a kind of awe, as if something beautiful is unfolding before her eyes.  “That’s amazing. I love that you found your calling through something so meaningful.”

You shrug, feeling a bit bashful under her stare. “What about you? When did you know you wanted to be a writer?”

She laughs, a light, airy sound that makes you grin from ear to ear. You could listen to it forever. 

“Oh, I’ve always known,” she says. “Actually, I was always writing in my diary as a kid. I'd write about my day, things I enjoyed, pretty much anything that came to mind. I loved reading pocket books, too, and I even tried my hand at writing fiction once or twice.

“But I quickly discovered that fiction wasn't really my thing. I loved writing, though—just the act of putting words on paper, sharing my thoughts and experiences. It felt natural, like breathing.

“And even though I wasn't making up fictional characters and places,” Leigh continues, “I realized I could still tell stories. They were my stories, rooted in the everyday things I observed and experienced. That was my niche, and I just ran with it.”

“Did you have a specific moment, like with Max?” you ask.

“Not really,” she says. “It’s just what I wanted to do, that’s all.”

You nod. “Knowing what you want to do or be saves a lot of time, doesn’t it?”

“I guess?” She smiles at your insight, then adds, “Though maybe in another life, I’d be a serious journalist. If I thought I had the natural knack or talent for it, maybe I would.”

You frown slightly at that, concerned by her self-doubt. “Why do you think you’re not good enough to be a ‘serious’ journalist now?”

Leigh looks surprised by your question, then thoughtful. “I don’t know. I guess I always see those roles as being for people who are more... intense, more investigative. But you’re right. Maybe it’s just a matter of believing I could.”

“You’re an amazing writer, Leigh,” you say earnestly. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

“How can you say that?” she asks, leaning in a bit closer. “Have you read any of my work apart from my tiny blurbs in the gossip column?”

You feel a blush warm your cheeks. “Well, I might have done a bit of Googling,” you confess, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. “Your articles popped up, and I... may have read all of them.”

Her eyebrows lift, and she gives your foot a careful pinch. “Is that so?” she teases, her voice dropping lower. The blush spreads down your neck and chest. “And what did you think? Did they pass muster with our impromptu art critic here?”

“Honestly, I was blown away,” you say, looking her straight in the eye. “Your writing is intuitive, engaging. It pulled me right in. You've got this strong, clear voice that really comes through, even in the straightforward pieces.”

Leigh regards you for a moment longer than usual, as if trying to read the pages of a particularly dense novel—searching for the truth in your words. Then, as if finding what she was looking for, her features soften, the guarded lines around her eyes relaxing.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, her voice carrying a tender gravity. “That really means a lot to me.”

You beam up at her, blissfully unaware of the profound impact your praise has had on her appreciation of her own writing. 

Before you can pick up the thread of your laid-back conversation again, a man who could easily double as an Instagram model approaches. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with a rogue lock of hair artfully obscuring one icy-blue eye. Both you and Leigh pause, taken aback by his sudden, striking presence, and an instinctive wariness settles in between you.

“Hey there. Are you okay?” he asks, hovering slightly, his focus solely on you, as if Leigh is merely a shadow on the wall.

“It's nothing, just a bit of swelling,” you say. You look up at him briefly and force a smile before focusing your attention back on Leigh.  She's already staring down the stranger, as if trying to laser through his meticulously sculpted side-profile.

He presses on, “I could drive you to the hospital to get that checked out.”

You exchange a quick look with Leigh, catching the flash of irritation that crosses her face before she masks it with a polite smile. 

“That’s very kind of you, but I'll be fine.”

Despite this, he doesn’t give up. “Really, it's no trouble at all. You shouldn't walk on that,” he says, pointing at your foot that’s clearly on someone else’s lap. This time, his gaze lingers a little too long for comfort. 

Leigh gently lowers your foot from her lap and stands up, positioning herself between you and the persistent stranger. There's a considerable height difference between them—Leigh is notably shorter—but she doesn't seem intimidated in the slightest. Instead, she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin like she’s ten feet tall.

“Excuse me,” Leigh clears her throat. “We’re on a date here.” 

The man blinks, surprised. “A date?” he echoes.

“Yes,” Leigh confirms, her smile now a thin line of resolve. “The kind where I kiss her goodnight after.”  

You catch a few curious glances from nearby onlookers and feel a blush creeping up your neck. You duck your head, trying to shield yourself from their stares. More than anything, though, you're struck by Leigh's bold declaration to a near stranger—that she was going to kiss you by the end of this date.

Of course, you’re hoping she would, but hearing her say it out loud sends your stomach into a flutter of somersaults

His face registers the rebuff, and he nods awkwardly, stepping back. “Right, sorry,” he mutters before finally turning and walking away.

Leigh is heaving slightly, visibly tense, her back to you, and you gently take her hand to bring her focus back.

“Hey,” you mumble softly. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s not your fault,” Leigh says as she turns back to face you, her eyes now softer. You sense the tension easing from her as your fingers intertwine more firmly. “I’m sorry if—”

“Thank you,” you interrupt gently, wanting her to know her protectiveness was welcome. “I really appreciated that.”

She laughs, a sound of relief. “Okay, good. I didn’t want to come off too strong.”

You want to tell her that she does, that she's always been a force to be reckoned with. But you bite your lip, not wanting it to come across as criticism. You like this quality of hers, and you don’t want her to change anything about herself just because you're a completely different person with a different perspective.

She shuffles her feet, looking a bit unsure, then sits down beside you. “So... where were we?”

You smile at her. “I was saying how amazing you are as a writer.”

Leigh grins, her eyes lighting up. “Oh, right. Please, go on.”

You laugh, and the two of you spend the next hour in the art exhibit, talking about everything and nothing.

-

At 1pm, you and Leigh head out for a scenic drive to Santa Monica Beach.

A week ago, as soon as she agreed to this date, you booked a table at a beachside lobster joint that’s been trending locally for some time now. It seems like the perfect spot, with great reviews and a beautiful setting by the ocean. The drive is relaxed, the windows rolled down and the salty air filling the car, clearing away any last threads of the tension from earlier at the exhibit. 

Leigh is in high spirits, chatting animatedly about books and laughing more freely than she has all day. At one point, you find yourselves discussing The Great Gatsby.

“I just don't get the hype,” you say, shaking your head as you keep your eyes on the road, though you're eager to dive into what promises to be an interesting debate. “I mean, the characters are all so shallow, and the story feels more like a soap opera than a classic.”

Leigh's expression brightens, excited to dispute your claim. “But that’s exactly why it’s a classic,” she counters, turning to face you and resting her head against her arm on the windshield. “Fitzgerald captured the Jazz Age perfectly—the decadence, the disillusionment, the elusive American Dream. It's all critiqued through some really beautiful writing.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “So you think the shallowness is the point?”

“Exactly,” she replies, smirking slightly. “Gatsby's obsession with Daisy, who represents everything he can't have, mirrors the era's obsession with wealth and status. It's tragic and a little ridiculous because it's supposed to be.”

You pretend to mull it over, though you know she has a point. You can feel her gaze on you, and you're starting to relish Leigh's undivided and very welcome attention. You drag out your response, just to see how she reacts. You think you catch her rolling her eyes out of the corner of your eye.

Chuckling, you say, “You’re making it hard to stick to my guns here.”

Her smirk widens into a proud smile. “Good! Maybe it’s time to surrender those guns.”

You flex your arm, showcasing your slim and completely unimpressive biceps. “Speaking of guns, maybe I should keep these instead,” you joke, giving Leigh a playful look.

Leigh makes a face. “Oh, please, keep those guns. They're definitely more persuasive than your take on Fitzgerald!” she teases. 

You pout at her sarcastic comment about your physique, but your smile is good-natured. It's been a long time since you've felt this at ease—not just with Leigh, but with anyone else. You haven't enjoyed company like this in a while, not since... 

Well, not since Matt. 

After a while, you say, “Maybe I need to give it another read. You make it sound like a completely different book.”

Leigh shifts in her seat to face the long, winding road ahead. “We can read it together. Maybe you’ll catch some of the subtleties you missed the first time around,” she suggests.

You sneak a glance at her, catching her eyes just as she looks back at you, your dark brown eyes meeting her green ones. It's a bit ridiculous, but you find yourself wishing this drive would never end. The swelling in your foot stings with every press of the gas pedal, but somehow, it doesn't seem to matter.

“I’d love that.”

-

When you pull into the quaint parking lot of the restaurant, nestled right against the beach, you're greeted by stunning ocean views that truly live up to the hype. Inside, the nautical decor, complete with nets and life rings adorning the walls, is cliché yet undeniably still charming. The rain has subsided, but the beach remains unusually quiet, lacking the usual crowds that gather when the sun is out. 

As you settle into a table with a view of the beach, it feels like the right kind of perfect until you start discussing the menu and Leigh's smile drops a touch. 

“I should’ve mentioned—I’m allergic to shellfish.”

“Oh,” you manage, a twinge of embarrassment settling in your stomach. You feel a bit foolish for jumping ahead without checking first. It's not the first time this has happened with Leigh, and suddenly, her earlier hesitations about your intentions and feelings make more sense. You realize you've constructed a version of her that feels familiar, yet moments like these remind you that there's still so much about her you have yet to understand.

“We can go somewhere else,” you suggest, even though you don’t have the first clue where else to go.

“Really, it's okay. We don’t have to leave. I'll find something else. This place is too gorgeous to skip just because of that,” she says.

You hastily scan the menu for alternatives, but the options are slim. The only non-shellfish item is a fish and chips plate that looks unappealing at best. Then, tucked at the bottom of the menu, you spot a plain cheeseburger with fries on the side.

“Leigh, we should really head somewhere else,” you say, remembering how she mentioned she was starving just before stepping inside the restaurant. The last thing you want is for her to settle for a less-than-satisfying meal simply because the setting is picturesque.

Leigh gives you a reassuring smile, but you can sense the underlying frustration as she says, “You don't need to make such a big deal out of it.”

“But you said you were hungry.”

“I know you mean well, and I really appreciate it. But honestly, it's just lunch,” Leigh says.

You go quiet, not wanting to argue further, but inside, you’re still kicking yourself for not having a backup plan. Sensing your inner turmoil, Leigh sighs, dropping the menu on the table. 

“Hey,” she begins softly, waiting until you meet her eyes before offering a small, apologetic smile. She knows today hasn't gone as smoothly as you hoped—starting with her oversleeping, then arriving late to a gallery you were excited to see, only to find it overcrowded. And on top of that, the incident where she stepped on your foot. You’ve been brushing it off, insisting you’re fine, but she noticed your grimaces every time you pressed the gas pedal during the drive. Clearly, today hasn’t unfolded as you planned.

Leigh’s not trying to downplay the effort you've put into today, but she also doesn't want you to think that a single mishap could turn her away. She hopes you don't set expectations too high just yet, not when you're both still in the early stages of getting to know each other. Beyond the undeniable physical chemistry between you, she's looking forward to discovering how you both handle the less-than-perfect moments just as much as the perfect ones.

Once she has your attention, she continues, “I was married for seven years and had numerous relationships before that.”

Your curiosity prickles—Numerous? How many?—but Leigh keeps talking, pulling you back to the moment.

“I've seen all the grand gestures. They’re fine—they’re romantic, but right now, I just want to do normal stuff with someone I like.”

“Me, too. I—”

“That means not worrying about every little thing on a menu I can’t eat. I don’t need every outing to be perfect.”

You nod, a realization sinking in. Leigh doesn’t want you to treat her as if she’s delicate, like china that could shatter at any moment. She wants you, with all your flawed plans and your corny jokes.

Maybe, you realize, you and Leigh share more than just an intense attraction. You both harbor insecurities about being wanted for something you're not, rather than for who you truly are. Deep down, there's a fear lurking in you that maybe this—whatever this is—could evaporate. You're scared that Leigh might discover something about you that could change her mind, worried that all this might just be a fleeting curiosity or a complicated connection tied to her past.

So you aimed for perfection today—at the expense of not being yourself, perhaps becoming too cautious and too rigid in the process. Leigh's desire for authenticity over perfection makes you rethink your approach.

“Okay,” you finally say, setting the menu down. You signal a waiter and order their bestseller—broiled lobster in butter garlic herb sauce.

Leigh looks up from her menu. “And I'll have the cheeseburger,” she tells him. Then, leaning across the table, she adds in a mock-threatening tone, “But you should know, it’s actually breakfast and dessert where you really can’t go wrong with me.” She exaggerates her expression, widening her eyes for effect.

Perhaps it’s a good lesson to learn that not everything has to be perfect to be right. 

At least, not with Leigh Shaw.

-

After a hearty meal, with you having indulged in the lobster since Leigh couldn't partake, you both feel pleasantly full. Needing to stretch your legs and help settle the big lunch, you suggest a walk along the shore.

You roll up your jeans to your calves, trying to keep them dry, but the relentless little waves have other plans, occasionally splashing over and wetting the fabric. Meanwhile, Leigh, wearing high-waisted cotton shorts, meanders alongside you, unaffected by the water's reach. As the sun dips lower, it paints the horizon in vibrant shades of orange and pink. Endless stretches of beach host a few leisurely strollers, all basking in scenery that seems almost too striking to be real. 

Walking side by side, every now and then your fingers brush against each other—a fleeting touch that sends a subtle thrill through you. Despite the advanced nature of your physical relationship, you and Leigh exchange shy smiles, almost as if you're newly acquainted. It's a curious thing that here, in the open expanse of the beach, there are instances where it feels like you haven't crossed those boundaries at all.

You want to reach out and hold her hand, but Leigh is wrapped up in her own thoughts, her arms crossed as she stares out where the horizon swallows ships whole. Respecting her reverie, you shove your hands into the pockets of your jeans instead.

After a while, Leigh turns to you, her face catching the evening light, transforming her into something almost otherworldly. Her expression is open, inviting, and it makes your heart stumble over itself once more. 

“So, Y/N,” she says, her voice low and a little unsteady, as if she had second thoughts a moment ago about whether to even say the words. “Tell me about the girls and boys you've loved before.”

Once again, you’re unsuspecting of Leigh’s directness.

You scramble for a moment, trying to buy some time. “Well, what exactly do you want to know about them?” you ask, watching her closely. Ex-lovers are bound to come up soon, and you haven't really thought about your own answer. Truth be told, your track record feels lackluster, but somehow you think that might be a good thing.

Leigh bites her lip, seemingly pondering her next move. She kicks at the small ripples lapping at her ankles, sending water splashing in little arcs. After a moment, she looks up at you coyly. “I don't know, you decide what to tell me,” she says, unapologetically leaving the ball squarely in your court.

Her response puts you at ease a little, turning the pressure of the question into more of a gentle invitation to share what you feel comfortable with. 

You take a deep breath, tasting the salt on the breeze. “I didn't actually have a boyfriend until I was twenty-two,” you say, glancing at Leigh to gauge her reaction.

Her eyebrows lift in surprise, an expression that draws a small laugh from you. “Yeah, I was a late bloomer,” you say, a flippant shrug accompanying your words. “I think I was just curious, you know? Everyone around me was pairing off, and I felt like I was missing out.

“It lasted six months. It was more about exploration than anything else. And then, well, it took another two years before I found myself in something serious.”

“With who?” Leigh asks, slowing down a little. The wind picks up, teasing strands of her hair across her face, not bound today in her usual ponytail. She brushes them aside absently, her focus fixed on you.

“Her name was Alex,” you continue, the name rolling off your tongue thoughtfully as bittersweet memories flood your mind. You haven’t thought about her in a long time—she was your first love and your first heartbreak. “She was incredible—taught me what it really means to be with someone, to really be present. We were together for almost three years.”

Leigh suddenly stops and turns to face you. She grabs your hand, guiding you both to a weathered bench a few steps from the lapping waves. 

“How did it end?” she asks quietly.

“We moved in together after a year,” you say, trying to keep your tone light even though you’re about to rehash a painful past. “Things were really good, at least that's what I thought. But then, just a month after our third anniversary, I came home early from work and... I found her in bed with someone else.”

“Oh, Y/N…”

“It was her coworker, someone I'd always just thought of as a colleague of hers,” you conclude, managing a tight-lipped smile. Neither of you speak for a while, allowing the susurration of the sea to fill the gap instead.

“I’m sorry,” Leigh finally says.

You shrug, looking out at the horizon where the sun meets the calm waters. “It's a long time ago. From what I've heard through mutual friends, they're still together. Maybe they were meant for each other, and I was just a stop on her journey to finding that out. I mean, I shouldn't feel so bad for not getting in the way of true love.”

Leigh shakes her head, not buying into your attempt to whitewash what Alex did. “She should've ended it with you properly.”

You’ve pondered that moment countless times, wondering if it would have been easier if she had simply been honest about falling out of love. You picture different scenarios where you come home to Alex waiting to tell you there’s someone else, and each time, you arrive at the same painful conclusion.

“I don't know, it probably would have hurt just the same,” you tell her honestly. 

Leigh scoots closer, looping her arm around you and resting her head on your shoulder. In a whisper, she concurs, “I think so too.”

Then, Leigh starts sharing her story with Matt. It begins at a college house party, where they first met—just a couple of undergrads who had no idea what the future held. As she talks, you rest your cheek against her head, absorbing every detail. You chuckle at her lighthearted anecdotes, feeling the happiness they brought her. But as she talks about the tougher times, particularly the months leading up to his death, your smile fades, replaced by a tightness in your chest.

Soon enough the telling morphs into a session of self-reflection where it becomes unclear whether Leigh’s speaking to you or to herself. She suggests that she blames herself for his death, feeling as if she had somehow caused his demise. She confesses that when he died, it seemed like all the good parts of her died with him, parts she now thinks existed only because of him. 

When she finally breaks down, sobbing into your neck, you pull her closer, wrapping your arms around her as if you could squeeze away all the guilt and pain she’s carrying. Part of you wants to interrupt, to assure her that she’s wrong, that all her good parts were always there, maybe just brightened by her love for him—because isn’t that what love does? It casts everything in a better light. But you resist the urge to speak, understanding that sometimes the best comfort you can offer isn’t words, but simply presence and the quiet acceptance of her sorrow.

-

It starts to rain again a few minutes into your drive back to the city. As the droplets splatter against the windshield and the wipers slide back and forth, you notice Leigh holding up her phone, talking animatedly into it.

“Hey there, we're on our way back and look at this rain, it's really coming down! Oh, and I've got someone very special I want you to meet—this is Y/N.” She angles the phone toward you. You feel your cheeks warm as you give a small, awkward wave. “Aren’t those eyes incredible? Like deep, rich coffee... absolutely gorgeous.”

“What are you doing?” you ask, still a bit embarrassed.

“Something for my eyes only,” Leigh replies nonchalantly, lowering her phone but keeping that roguish smile.

“You didn't have to stop,” you tell her, still a bit amused by her whole vlogging act.

Leigh turns to face you fully. “I kind of want to look at you now without a screen between us,” she murmurs, her voice low and inviting.

You swallow, feeling a thrill at her directness. Leigh's approach is always bold, and it sends an excited shiver down your spine. You wish you weren't trapped in the driver's seat, confined by the slow crawl of traffic, so you could fully engage with her flirtation. Yet, there's a part of you that suspects Leigh enjoys knowing you're somewhat at her mercy, divided between the road and her teasing.

Trying to distract her from whatever she’s up to, you throw out a playful challenge. “Want to guess where we're headed next?”

It seems to work as Leigh glances out at the relentless downpour. “In this weather?”

“Yup,” you respond simply, a mysterious smile on your lips as you focus on the rain-slicked road ahead, keeping the surprise of your next stop just between the two of you for a little longer.

Leigh has this endearing habit of pressing the back of her fingers against her mouth, her thumb brushing her lower lip as she thinks. You've come to recognize this gesture as a sign she's deep in thought or uncertain about something.

“Bowling?”

You snort in amusement.

“At least give me a clue!”

“It involves a membership card,” you hint.

Leigh scrunches up her nose, clearly appalled at her next guess. “The gym?”

“The library, of course,” you reply with a grin, recalling an earlier conversation. “Remember I mentioned having a membership card?”

Leigh narrows her eyes, and in a skittish huff, slaps your arm lightly. “You're totally messing with me,” she accuses.

“Hey, I'm driving here!” you protest, trying to keep the car steady. Undeterred, she pokes at your ribs, discovering a ticklish spot. You can't help but burst into laughter. “Seriously, Leigh, we're going to crash if you keep this up,” you say between giggles, half-joking, half-pleading for mercy.

She pulls back, her laughter tapering off into a series of chuckles that fade into the rhythmic splatter of hefty raindrops on the car roof. Once it’s comfortably quiet again, she leans back in her seat, her expression turning curious and a little conspiratorial. 

“Speaking of books, there's something I almost forgot to tell you,” she says.

“Yeah?” you respond, somewhat distracted as a car swiftly cuts into your lane.

“Matt's comic is going to be published posthumously,” she reveals slowly. “Danny and I have been working together on it.”

You strive to keep your expression blasé at the mention of Danny's name. There's no room for jealousy when it concerns Matt's legacy. If Leigh needs to do this, whether Danny is involved or not, it's her choice and not your place to question.

“That's amazing, Leigh,” you say, trying to sound cheerful and supportive. “Matt would have been thrilled.”

Leigh gives you a curious look. Your focus remains on the road ahead, so you miss the reservation in her green eyes.

“You think so?”

“Yeah,” you respond, nodding. Without much thought, you add, “He used to show me his work, and I was honestly impressed.”

Leigh's expression shifts subtly at your words, and there's a moment of quiet between you. “Matt never showed me his works,” she says softly, almost to herself.

You feel a flush of embarrassment, realizing it might have sounded like you were bragging about being privy to Matt's work—a privilege Leigh, his wife, hadn't shared. You manage only a soft, “Oh,” which hangs awkwardly in the air.

“I found his sketches one day by accident, and he didn't like it—me seeing his work, I mean. He always wanted to keep that part of his life separate.”

You’re still processing this when Leigh speaks again.

“I used to tell him everything, you know? I’d ask for his take on my work, vent about the chaos at mom’s studio, and talk through the tough times we faced as a family when—well, when Jules was dealing with her addiction,” she says, her voice trailing off a bit at the end.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, not knowing what else to say.

Leigh brushes off your sympathy with a gentle flick of her wrist. “No, it's not that he was trying to be secretive. I think... I think I was too critical of him, even about his depression.  I thought I knew everything, knew what was best for him.” She sighs, a shadow of regret crossing her face. “I guess I was kind of overbearing, so he stopped sharing things with me. He chose to keep it all to himself instead of having to constantly argue with me.”

You wince slightly, feeling guilty in some way, but Leigh quickly reassures you. “Hey, I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad that he shared things with you. I’m actually glad he did. His work deserves to be out there.”

You nod, taking in Leigh's reflections quietly. Wanting to steer back to a milder topic, you ask, “So, when is it going to be published?”

Leigh's fingers absently toy with the ends of her hair as she thinks. “It's set to come out early next year,” she finally says, her voice surprisingly devoid of excitement. You can't help but wonder why that is.

“And there's going to be a tour right after—it's promoting the comic along with some other new titles from the publisher. I'm... planning to go.”

“That sounds like an incredible experience,” you say, smiling at her.

Leigh makes a sound of agreement. “It's probably starting in late February,” She takes a deep breath before adding, “It'll take me all over the country. We need to attend conventions and such.”

You fall silent, digesting her words. The realization that this isn't just a short trip starts to sink in. “How long will you be gone?” you ask, trying to catch her gaze but Leigh’s eyes are trained forwards.

“I don't have all the details yet, but it could be anywhere from a few weeks to a couple of months,” she says.

“But you'll come back in between, right?” The hope in your question is palpable.

Leigh shakes her head slowly. “I'm not sure. It might be a good time to travel and go away for a while with this opportunity.”

The conversation drifts between you, muffled like the world outside the fogged-up windows of your car. It's becoming clear, maybe too clear, what this all means.

Leigh's gaze stays fixed on the shimmering road ahead. She's quiet, but you can almost hear her thoughts tumbling over each other. You know she's wrestling with the implications of her future plans, just as you are. She knows the reality of the situation, understands that there are only a few ways this could possibly go.

She can't ask you to wait, and it wouldn't be fair to ask you to drop everything and follow her. That leaves the looming possibility of a farewell that could stretch into something indefinite.

Minutes pass—one, then two—before you both lose count. It feels as though an hourglass has been unwillingly flipped. Watching the city lights blur through the rain, you can't help but feel they reflect the uncertainty of your future with Leigh. You're willing to attempt a long-distance relationship, though you know it might not be ideal. The prospect of being apart just as things are beginning to bloom between you feels akin to a preemptive goodbye.

Then, an idea takes hold—a bold, possibly reckless notion, but it clings to your heart with surprising tenacity. Yes, you have a clinic, a business that needs you, but suddenly, those realities seem negotiable, secondary to what feels more pressing—being with Leigh.

“What if I came with you on the tour?”

Leigh turns to look at you, her eyes wide with surprise and something like worry. She knows your life is deeply rooted here, especially with the veterinary clinic you’ve poured your heart—and savings—into.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” she says.

“Why not?” you ask softly.

Your tone is so earnest, almost childlike in your confusion, that Leigh’s lips part and then close as she grapples with how to articulate her feelings about your rash offer.

“You have your clinic, your responsibilities here. It's too much for me to expect you to just walk away from that,” Leigh argues.

“But what if it’s not about what you’re asking me to give up?” you say, your fingers unconsciously tightening their grip on the steering wheel. “What if it’s about what I’m willing to sacrifice?”

Leigh's frustration shows clearly as she pushes back against your idea. “Sacrifices? It's about being realistic. We can't just make decisions on a whim.”

You turn to look at her, making it a point to focus on her for a second longer than you should while driving. “But I don't see it as a whim. I see it as choosing what matters most to me.”

Leigh sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You're not seeing the whole picture. What about your employees? They depend on you.”

“I can arrange things at the clinic. I can find people to cover for me,” you say confidently. But Leigh is just as relentless with her objections.

“And what if you come back and resent me for taking you away from all that?” Leigh counters, her voice rising a little. 

“I won’t,” you reply quickly, even though you know it's a hefty promise to make in such a heated moment.

Leigh scoffs, shaking her head vehemently. “You can’t possibly know that.”

Before you can bolster your promise with more reassurances, your phone rings. It’s Sara, calling from the clinic. Leigh watches as you answer, her expression a mix of resignation and pointedness, as if to emphasize her earlier concerns about your responsibilities.

You excuse yourself, grab your phone, and answer the call. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“It's an emergency,” Sara's voice is tense. “Foreman needs you. Can you make it?”

You're just minutes from the city now, and your heart sinks as you realize the timing couldn't be worse. “Yes, I'll be there soon,” you mutter, feeling torn.

After hanging up, you turn to Leigh, who's been quietly observing. “There’s an emergency at the clinic, and Foreman needs my help,” you explain. “Can we stop there? It won't take long, and we can still make it to our next stop.”

Leigh gives a resigned nod, her earlier arguments about your responsibilities underscored by this untimely call. “Sure, whatever,” she says, her voice flat. You want to erase that look on her face, but for now, you’re needed elsewhere.

-

You spring from the car the moment it's parked, snagging your white coat from the trunk in one fluid motion. Leigh is right on your heels, her footsteps quick and questioning as you both scurry into the clinic.

You burst through the doors and immediately spot Sara at the reception, giving her a quick nod of acknowledgment. Beside you, Leigh’s steps falter slightly at the sight of Sara, her expression one of mild shock at seeing her there—a detail you realize you've failed to mention.

“What’s happening?” you ask Sara, pulling your hair into a tight bun.

“Room two, now,” she replies, gesturing briskly towards the surgery room.

You nod and break into a jog, with Leigh hesitantly trailing behind. When you reach your destination, you stop short and turn to signal Leigh to wait outside.

“I’m so sorry about this,” you say, your voice full of apology.

“Just go,” she whispers softly. You offer her a grateful smile before your expression shifts to calm determination as you slip into the surgery room.

Left in the waiting area, Leigh stands in a stupor, surrounded by unanswered questions and a sudden solitude, her eyes lingering on the closed doors you've just disappeared through.

-

Leigh has been noticeably quiet since you emerged from the surgery room an hour and a half ago. Right after you came out, she meekly asked for the car keys and walked straight out of the clinic. You didn’t think much of it at the time, busy giving final instructions to Foreman and Sara before heading out to continue your date with her.

Now, as you drive to the bar you planned on taking her to, you can’t seem to come up with a topic that doesn’t seem like you're evading the earlier argument.

“Where are we headed next?”

You breathe a sigh of relief as Leigh breaks the silence. You notice her glance at the watch on her wrist. The small motion feels like a small betrayal—does it signal impatience, or worse, a desire to escape this disjointed evening?

With everything that’s happened, you drop the pretense of surprise. “I had planned for us to catch a live band at a speakeasy downtown,” you say evenly. “But we're running late, and honestly, I'm not even sure it's worth heading there now.”

You risk a glance at Leigh, almost expecting she’d choose this moment to cut the evening short. But she merely hums noncommittally, and just like that, silence settles in once more.

When you arrive, the heavy rain makes the night feel even more somber. A few cars are still scattered around the parking lot, but the place otherwise looks almost deserted. You grab an umbrella from the backseat and offer it to Leigh as you both make your way to the entrance.

As you approach, the doorman stops you from crossing the threshold. “Sorry, folks,” he says, his voice nearly drowned out by the rain. “The performance was canceled, and we're wrapping up early tonight because of the weather.”

Disappointment settles in, heavier now with the official confirmation. You turn to Leigh, trying to salvage what you can of the evening. “Maybe we can have at least one drink?” you suggest, hoping to extend the time you have together.

Leigh pauses, her expression inscrutable for a moment before she shakes her head. “Actually, I think I’d rather not,” she says, throwing you off with her refusal. 

The doorman gives you a sympathetic nod as he pulls the heavy doors shut, sealing off the warm glow of the bar from the cold, wet night. Leigh takes the umbrella from you with a gesture that's both resigned and leading, and starts walking back to the car. Her steps are quick, purposeful, but she slows just enough under the umbrella to ensure you're covered and not getting drenched. But you barely notice the rain; your mind is clouded with thoughts of how the evening has unfolded.

As you walk, you replay the last few hours, how what began as an attempt to reassure Leigh of your willingness to go the distance by offering to join her on the tour quickly spiraled into a demonstration of all the practical reasons why it was a bad idea. And the unexpected revelation about Sara working at your clinic surely hadn't helped.

Leigh slides into the passenger seat, handing you the umbrella which you catch as several raindrops escape onto your arm. You settle into the driver’s seat, carefully folding the umbrella and tossing it behind you. 

“I guess I should drop you home?” you suggest, more as a formality than a question.

Leigh hums in response, her voice low and temporizing. It’s starting to irk you, this silent treatment. Throughout the drive to her house, the only sounds are the steady swish of the windshield wipers and the occasional splash of tires against puddles. You steal glances at her, trying to decipher her thoughts. Her face is angled towards the window, so that each time you pass under a street lamp, there’s a fleeting moment where her face is illuminated, revealing a tightness around her eyes and a slight downturn at the corners of her mouth.

Just before you turn onto her street, something inside you rebels. You can’t let the night end on this note—defeated, disconnected. You pull over under a massive tree beside an empty lot and shut off the engine.

Turning to her, you find your voice again. “Leigh, talk to me. Please.”

She sighs but remains silent.

“Are you upset because of Sara?”

That gets a reaction from her—an unpleasant one, but a reaction nonetheless. 

“Oh, please.” Leigh lets out a sarcastic chuckle. “Really, it's not my business who you hire, even if it's an ex. But considering you just told me you love me this morning, don't you think that's something you should have mentioned?”

You hadn’t intentionally kept Sara's hiring from Leigh; it had slipped through the cracks of a busy week. You never even considered Sara an ex-anything, so it was an honest mistake. If only you could convince Leigh that Sara is truly that insignificant to you.

“I'm sorry, Leigh,” you say, hoping to smooth things over. But she isn't having it. “It was an oversight, not a choice. Sara really doesn't mean anything in that way. I just didn't think it was important.”

Instead of pacifying her, your words have the opposite effect.

“Not important?” Leigh’s face sets like concrete. “When you say you love someone, everything becomes important, especially things like this. How am I supposed to trust you?”

Your own frustration flares. You didn’t expect such a harsh judgment over what seemed so trivial in your mind. A thought then strikes you, fueling your anger. “And what about you? You’re heading away for months, and you’ve barely spoken about it. When were you going to tell me all the details? Right before you left?”

Leigh reels as if you've slapped her. “That’s different. I was going to tell you—”

“When? Last minute at the airport?” You cut her off, your voice rising to match hers.

“It’s not the same, and you know it!” Leigh snaps back, her eyes alight with anger and something like hurt.

“You're right, it's not the same,” you snap back. “It’s much worse. Because you said you’d give us a chance. And now, when I’m telling you I’m willing to fight for a chance to be with you, you’re shutting me down.”

“I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep,” Leigh says tightly.

“You don’t need to promise me anything,” you reply, your voice softening. “All I’m asking for is a real shot at this. I know you want that too.”

Leigh’s eyes glisten, and for a moment, you think you’re getting through to her. But then her expression hardens again. “Not like this,” she says.

You feel like you're climbing an ever-growing wall between the two of you, but you refuse to give up on this—on her.

“It won’t be easy,” you acquiesce, changing tactics. “But nothing worth having ever is. We can figure it out together, Leigh. We can make it work if we both want it enough.”

Leigh’s jaw clenches, and she looks away, the rain streaking down the windows like tears. She can’t help but compare this moment to the beginning with Matt. He had been so eager, so willing to give himself to her completely. He had always assured her that he was happy just to be with her, to follow her wherever her dreams led. He had said yes to every plan she made, every crazy idea she had, always with that same smile, always saying, “As long as I’m with you.”

But then, one day, he wasn’t there anymore.

And Leigh doesn’t know if she can survive another abandonment.

You have no idea that all of this is racing through her mind as you keep making your case. “...just take a leap of faith. Don’t push me away before we’ve even had a chance to—”

You’re mid-sentence, almost convincing yourself that you're breaking through her defenses, when Leigh interrupts with a shout, “Maybe this was a mistake!”

Taken aback and hurt by her outburst, you risk calling her bluff, exclaiming, “Maybe it was!”

An impasse is reached. For a moment, all you can do is stare at each other, each of you gasping for breath as if the air itself has slipped from the car in those tense seconds. 

Is this it, then?

Is this the end?

But before you can retract any of your words, in a move you never see coming, Leigh reaches out. Her hand clasps the back of your neck, pulling you close. She kisses you fiercely, as if trying to settle the argument with just the pressure of her lips.

But she's not trying to win. Leigh doesn't want to come out on top in this argument. Instead, she wants to forget her usual realism and bury herself in the moment. She wants to give in to your optimism, to let you abandon everything you've worked for to be with her in the coming months.

But she knows that’s selfish.

And she finds herself unable to be selfish when it comes to you. 

You're just beginning to melt into the kiss, to lose yourself in the forgiveness it promises, when Leigh abruptly pulls away. She hurls herself back against her seat, her back pressed hard against the door, panting. 

“Sorry,” she gasps, her voice thick with both regret and need.

You look at her, eyes half-lidded and lips feeling bruised from the fervor of her kiss. All you can focus on is how she's starting to pull away—but you're determined not to let her go. Not this time.

“No, no, come here. Come back here, damn it.”

Leigh doesn't need to be told twice. She meets you halfway, the space between you disappearing as quickly as it had expanded. Her mouth finds yours once again, lips slotting together in a way that feels right, necessary—like solving a puzzle that neither of you knew how to complete until now. 

With all inhibitions cast aside, Leigh grabs the collar of your shirt with surprising strength, yanking you towards her so forcefully that half of your body ends up sprawled across the cramped passenger seat. Your hips press painfully against the gear stick, but any discomfort quickly fades as Leigh's tongue teases yours. Instinctively, you open your mouth wider, a low moan escaping as your tongues intertwine. You support your weight with one arm braced against the windshield behind her, careful not to overwhelm her with your weight. Your other hand rises to cradle her neck, feeling the heat of her skin rising by the second under your touch.

Leigh's hands are anything but idle; they're bold and determined as she reaches for the buttons of your jeans. It's the second time today since this morning, and she's all confidence as she pulls down the zipper, slipping her hand inside your soaked underwear. The moment her fingers trace the length of your slit, brushing against your clit with each pass, you nearly lose your balance.

But as much as you're caught up in the temptation of her touch, there’s something else on your mind—something you've been thinking about all week.

“Backseat,” you say breathlessly, the word more of a command than a suggestion. Without waiting for her response, you clamber toward the backseat of the car. Once there, you quickly turn to help Leigh slide in after you.

You gently push at Leigh's shoulders, and she understands immediately, lying back with a soft thud against the door panel. Her upper back curves awkwardly against the hard surface, but she doesn’t mind, consumed by desire and curiosity about what you’re planning to do next. She lies there, expectant and provocatively inviting, as your fingers hover over the waistband of her shorts. 

You lower your voice to a whisper, “May I?” 

She nods quickly and you make short work of her shorts and panties, tugging them down her thighs efficiently. With a firm tap, you signal for her to lift her legs. She complies, bending at the knees as you strip the fabric past her ankles and casually toss it to the front seat.

Your eyes widen at the sight of her waxed bare. “God, you're beautiful,” you whisper, pulling her closer until she's practically lying across your lap. Your hands roam over her creamy thighs, kneading the soft flesh there. You take your time, exploring every inch, your touch deliberately skirting the places she aches for you most. You’re teasing her, and her body responds ardently—her breath catches, her hips tilt seeking more.

Leigh’s skin is hot under your fingertips. She’s ready, practically quivering, but you keep the pace maddeningly slow. Your fingers dance closer, then retreat, building her frustration to a fever pitch.

“Patience,” you murmur with a teasing smile, savoring the way her body arches and responds to your touch.

“Don't be cruel,” she whines, her eyes the darkest you've seen them.

You lean in, your lips brushing against her ear. “I promise, it'll be worth it,” you whisper, letting your fingers finally drift to the spot she needs you most. Your fingers play with her, teasing her folds, drawing circles around her clit to get her wetter and wetter, each touch designed to increase her desire, her body responding with eager, heated movements. Her breathing becomes heavier, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she pushes against your fingers, craving more.

Seeing her so turned on, you adjust your position. You scoot backward until your back presses against the other side of the car, then gently maneuver Leigh's legs to drape over your shoulders, positioning her in a bridge. The pose might be demanding, so you look up at her, your hands supporting her weight by firmly grasping her buttocks. 

“Is this okay?" you ask as you prepare to bring her closer to your eager mouth.

“Just fuck me, please,” Leigh breathes out impatiently. 

That's all the permission you need. You lower your head, your lips finding the delicate, sensitive flesh of her pussy. Her taste is intoxicating, driving you to explore further with your tongue. Her hips rise to meet your mouth, the angle allowing you to take her in deeply. Leigh's response is immediate—her moans fill the car, guttural and unrestrained. The scent of sex begins to saturate the air, mingling with the dampness of the rain outside. You’re thankful for the dark tint of your car windows and the fact that the bad weather has cleared the streets at this hour.

You want to prolong this, to draw out every moment of her pleasure, but you can already feel Leigh tightening around your tongue, telling you she’s close. In a bid to intensify her impending release, you decide to gamble on your strength. With one hand you keep her lifted in the perfect position, while your other hand moves with a different intent.

Pulling your tongue back, you replace it with your lips, sucking her clit into your mouth, letting the slight pressure send ripples through her. Simultaneously, you slide your middle and ring finger deep into her, the slick heat of her welcoming you in. Leigh's response is visceral, a raw, “Oh fuck, fuck, that’s it, don’t stop…!” that she screams out as if it's being torn from her.

Fuelled by her cries, you pump your fingers harder, faster, curling them to stroke that perfect spot inside her. She's loud, unabashedly so, her moans filling the car, steaming up the windows even more, turning this space into your own sordid bubble. She's dripping down your wrist, your chin, but you don’t mind, existing in that moment solely for her pleasure.

“Y/N, I—”

She's right on the edge, her body slick with sweat and shaking from the relentless pleasure you're hammering into her. But as the climax washes over her, her voice breaks into something unexpected. Instead of the anticipated screams or the typical rush of expletives, something deeper bursts forth.

“—I love you!”

You almost lose your rhythm at her declaration.

Her body shakes violently, her screams of ecstasy almost a primal release. You keep going, pushing her through it, savoring every tremble and shudder, tasting every bit of her orgasm, all the while thinking, Leigh loves me.

She fucking loves me.

You’re cautious enough not to hang your entire heart on those three words immediately, but the confession still paints a devilish grin across your face. This wasn’t merely a heat-of-the-moment slip; it felt like Leigh was revealing something she'd been holding back for a while.

Carefully, you ease her legs down from your shoulders, noticing her wince as she adjusts from the stretch. Before you even get the chance to ask if she really meant what she said, Leigh answers by pulling you in close, her hands framing your face. She kisses you, so tenderly, and it’s nothing like the ones you’ve shared before. It’s the kind of kiss that slows time, the one you’ve been dreaming about since you were a little kid, the one you hope to keep until you’re old.

Leigh’s eyes lock onto yours, earnest and clear, “I do love you.” 

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (40) (End)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: description of childbirth, breeding and lactation kink, sex content, smut, angst, fluff ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Nothing terrified her more than giving birth. During the night, she often dreamt that she was dying an agonising death, that her husband was ordering her womb to be cut open as her grandfather had done to her grandmother.

She would then wake up drenched in a cold sweat and sigh with relief when she realised it was only a dream. She didn't tell her husband about it because she knew he would have been furious at the mere suggestion that he could do something so monstrous to her.

To her surprise and the initial panic that gripped her, though she would never have expected it, the presence of Alicent and Alys eased her delivery. The two experienced women told her exactly how she should sit and when to walk, how she should breathe, when to push and when to rest, stroking her hair and her back.

They comforted her with warm words, told her how perfectly she was doing, how brave she was, that everything would be well, that she could do it.

She felt like her baby was about to tear her apart, moans and screams erupted from her throat as if she were a monster or an animal, tears of exertion and suffering running down her cheeks hot with emotion.

"– I can see the head, Princess – the baby is placed in the right position – all is well – when I tell you, push –" Alys said, peering at her from between her thighs, and she nodded quickly, feeling relieved at her words, thinking that she would not die.

That she would give her husband a son and end the war.

She screamed, clasping her hand over Alicent's palm as she tried with effort to bring her offspring into the world, this brutal act unknown to the man full of blood and fluids, sickening and beautiful at the same time, giving life.

And suddenly she was relieved when something large finally slid out of her body and began to quiver. Alys smiled, as if she was genuinely happy about what she was seeing.

"– it's a healthy little boy –" She said, and she laughed with joy while simultaneously crying from relief and exhaustion, tilting her head back, panting loudly.

When her son's umbilical cord was cut he was wiped quickly and given to her, rolled up in a soft white cloth so she could see him.

His hair was white.

She looked at Alicent, who pressed her lips together, tears one by one running down her face.

"I'm so happy for you, my love. I truly am."

When her husband was summoned, she had the feeling that he had survived her labour worse than she had – he walked into the chamber shaky and pale, breathing loudly through his mouth as if he was about to faint. When he closed them in his embrace, when he saw their child, there was a smile on his face that she had so rarely seen: wide, joyful, full of life.

They had a son.

They had an heir.

They had an heir to the throne.

The word was immediately sent out to Dragonstone and King's Landing along with the signatures of Daemon and the Queen to attest to the truth of the message.

Both Aegon and her mother arrived in Harrenhal to see that it was true, and were greeted by the head of Lord Larys Strong impaled on a spike, as promised by Daemon.

She ran out to greet her mother as soon as she noticed Syrax in the distance – Rhaenyra embraced her immediately as she slid from her saddle, sobbing with joy at the sight of her, kissing her forehead and cheeks.

"– my only daughter –"

Aegon was already waiting for her, together with her husband bent over the cradle in which their son lay.

Viserys looked at the newcomers with his big, bright eyes, hiding his face in his small hands, watching the historic moment when a settlement was to be written between her mother and her uncle that would change the order of succession by their agreement, establishing her and her husband as ruler-regents until their son reached the age of sixteen.

According to Rhaenyra's will, neither of them was to wear the crown or sit on the Iron Throne – that honour would be bestowed only on their son, Viserys, when he reached the right age.

She watched, cradling her son in her arms, who put his whole little hand in his mouth, mumbling something squeaky, as Aegon and then her mother put their signatures to their arrangements written down by the scribe, and she clenched her eyes shut, swallowing hard, knowing that it had finally happened.

This was the end of the conflict.

Although the atmosphere in Harrenhal was tense, and Aegon had immediately returned to the Red Keep, the exact date had been set for when she, her mother and her husband would appear in King's Landing to present the will of her mother and her uncle to the entire kingdom in the Great Sept.

She was horrified that what had remained only in her imagination was now to become a reality.

Her husband was to become King Regent and she was to become Queen Regent.

They were to rule the kingdom together.

She was not prepared for such a life and was terrified, her husband, however, seemed calmer and more confident than ever, as if he had been destined for it.

She trusted him and wanted to be his support.

Viserys was changing every day, growing in front of her eyes. It seemed to her that he had more of his father in him than of her, for he was a sweet but shy child, hiding his flushed face whenever anyone but her or his father looked into his cradle or touched him.

To her delight, her husband, although at first afraid to take him in his arms, began to do so to ease the strain on her and her back as their son began to grow heavier.

She watched from the sidelines as the physical contact began to bring them closer together – Viserys stretched his small, chubby hands towards him when his father merely leaned over him, and her uncle was taking him in his arms, whispering something to him, from which their son giggled loudly.

She knew that he wanted to be a better father to their son than the one he had.

Because of what was happening they were too tired to do anything at night other than sleep, so they cuddled exactly as they had when they were children, falling asleep with their foreheads touching each other, holding hands, silently reminding each other that they were not alone.

Her uncle loved watching her feed his son. When she took him in her arms and slipped her shirt off her shoulders, he always interrupted whatever he was doing and came over to them, sitting down next to her, looking silently at this mythological sight of a woman breastfeeding her offspring.

One night as she put their son down, sleeping peacefully with a belly full of her milk back into his cradle, her husband looked at her with a look she knew well. He licked his lips as he sat spread out on the bed, watching her entire figure from afar.

"– come here –" He commanded with a grimace from which she felt a pleasant shiver, his eye fixed on her expression of satisfaction.

"– it's time for your husband to taste you –"

She didn't think he meant it, but as it turned out, her childhood friend still managed to surprise her. His lips kissed her soft thighs and stomach, where white lines had formed, and although, indeed, her body looked different, he didn't seem to notice.

"– my brave wife – she brought my son and heir into this world – shouldn't I, as her husband, caress her every night in return? –" He gasped, sliding his tongue down between her thighs, his light, taunting lick traveling up her puffy bud made her throw her head back, all thirsty.

"– yes –" She exhaled, feeling in her loins more than ever how much she wanted it, how much she needed those words, her cunt swollen with arousal.

"– mmm –"

She almost cried out as his nose pressed against her warm, sensitive folds, and his tongue invaded deep between her slit, trailing its tip and teasing the spot from which her thighs trembled in the grip of his hand.

"– fuck – Aemond, oh, fuck –" She mumbled, rocking her hips so that her pearl rubbed again and again against his face, feeling the tension and tingling in her lower abdomen, in her hard nipples and lips, her hands clenched in his hair, begging him for more.

"– dirty little cunt – all sticky – am I wrong? – He cooed with a sneer and she shook her head, feeling a wonderful shiver of delight run through her body at his words as his tongue slowly built her path to fulfillment.

"– my wife is unmannerly – she can't even answer her husband – what a pity –" He hummed, rising on his arms, wiping his face with a grin. She looked at him with her eyes wide open, panting loudly, feeling her whole womanhood pulsing and quivering with desire.

"– n-no – please –" She muttered pleadingly, and he chuckled under his breath, delighted apparently at her condition.

"– what shall I do with you? – how to teach you good manners? – treat you like a mere wet-nurse? – a source of milk for my offspring? – hm? –" He sneered, making her turn red with embarrassment, her fingers clenched on his hot, naked body.

She squirmed, startled, when he suddenly leaned over her chest and pressed his face against her breast, enclosing her puffy, delicate nipple between his lips, and then began to suck greedily.

She heard him swallow her warm milk and moan low at the same time as her, as if something about the act aroused them both.

"– fuck – fuck, fuck, fuck, please –" She mumbled out and sighed as his knee hit her leg and forced her to spread her thighs – not letting go of her breast from between his lips, which he kept squeezed between his fingers, he blindly tried to meet her entrance with the tip of his cock, into which she herself guided it with her fingers, desperate, spreading her walls in front of him.

"– here – here, uncle – gods, yes, right here –" She mewled and threw her head back as he slammed into her with an aggressive, deep thrust, sliding into her with ease. She squealed when he put his arm under her back and suddenly lifted himself to a sitting position, pulling her against him.

He forced her to fit his hard, throbbing erection inside her again and again with sharp, quick thrusts while keeping his hands clamped on her waist and breast – his lips released her nipple and clung to her mouth, letting her drink her own milk, warm and sweet.

"– fucking delicious –" He exhaled, sliding his tongue down her throat, embracing her tightly, her full, swollen breasts bumping against his chest, rubbing against her oversensitive nipples again and again. Their bodies slapped against each other loudly, her walls slick and wet, welcoming him easily deep inside her.

"– I've missed this little cunt – gods, Rhaenys, 'm close –" He muttered, ashamed and flushed at not being able to persevere any longer after such a long break, and then groaned loudly in pleasure along with her, his mouth wide open in relief and bliss.

"– Aemond –" She panted, along with him coming down from their peak, her fleshy walls squeezing his half-hard, twitching manhood, the remnants of his seed filling her womb.

"– six – you promised me six more –" He muttered, and she nodded quickly.

"– yes – yes, my beloved –"

The day their little son was to be presented in front of the crowd and the terms of the agreement were to take effect was one of the most terrifying of her life. She and her husband had returned to King's Landing several weeks earlier to oversee the preparations and what was to happen.

They and their families had travelled in carriages to the Great Sept as agreed. She rocked their son in her arms, who would not be calmed, crying loudly, feeling her terror and fear, the thought that something would happen, that someone would betray them, that there would be a tragedy that would destroy everything.

"Give him to me." Said her uncle, and she pressed her lips together, handing him squirming, whimpering Viserys.

"There, there. Easy. Your mother is just very scared, but we are not in any danger." He whispered to their son, rocking him calmly. Viserys looked at him, putting his small hand into his mouth as was his custom when he was intrigued.

"– no –" She and her uncle said at the same time, but her husband forestalled her, pulling his hand from his mouth.

"– you can't do that –" He rebuked him, apparently believing that the several-month-old infant would comprehend the weight of his words.

However, it turned out that he did not when, after a moment, his little fingers reached his chubby face again. Her husband grabbed his arm to stop him from doing what he wanted.

"– he's stubborn just like you –" He said, looking at her reproachfully, as if it was her fault that their son was displaying behaviour incomprehensible to him. She sighed heavily, shaking her head.

"– you haven't replied to my letters for eight years and you're going to lecture me on stubbornness? –" She asked with raised eyebrows and saw her uncle press his lips into a thin line, exactly as he had when they were children and she had told him that Aegon the Conqueror spent nine nights out of ten with Rhaenys.

He was just as she remembered him.

"Did you hear that, son? Your mother never forgets anything." He muttered, looking her straight in the eye. She smiled at him with a sneer.

"Never."

Her husband responded to her words with the same expression, grinning.

"Little tease."

When they finally arrived in the Great Sept, to her surprise, they were greeted with flowers and cheers; contrary to what she thought, the people of the kingdom were not in favour of a bloody solution to the matter and wanted peace above all else.

They went inside through a side entrance, her mother, her uncle and everyone else waiting on a large stone platform, onto which they stepped, accompanied by the solemn sound of trumpets.

"Heir to the Iron Throne, Viserys Targaryen, his father, King Regent Aemond Targaryen and his mother, Queen Regent, Rhaenys Targaryen." She heard the voice of one of the guards and looked at him in shock.

Rhaenys Targaryen.

Her husband had ordered that her real name not be read out, only the one he had given her.

That was how he perceived her.

Her mother looked at her, furrowing her brow, thinking something bad had happened, but she nodded at her with a smile, feeling tears under her eyelids.

The crowds began to cheer, and an overwhelming relief could be felt all around her, as if fresh air had suddenly filled her lungs, and she began to breathe again. She kissed the temple of her son, who snuggled into her body, terrified by the sudden screams and loud sounds, seeking refuge in her.

The more Viserys grew, the more he reminded her of his father. He quivered with contentment as her husband leaned over him with a book, showing him drawings of dragons, reading aloud to him the history of their lineage. When he was alone, he spent his days in the library, sitting in the exact chair her uncle had sat in when they were still children.

His role overwhelmed him and she knew it; he was a polite, composed and sensitive child. He had watched his father when, cold and mocking, he had dealt with members of the Small Council who had aroused his frustration, also spending a lot of time with his uncle, Prince Aegon.

"I took the throne from him. What was rightfully his as first son." He told her once, pale, bent over a book as usual. She ran her hand through his hair in a subconscious, maternal reflex and hissed when she felt the baby kick inside her abdomen.

Her husband had told her the night before, kissing her rounded belly, that he had hoped that after three sons he would finally have a daughter, and indeed, she had hoped so too.

The whole kingdom benefited from how stable their relation was, how strong their partnership was, their union, their trust in each other.

"The matter of succession was unclear because, before his death, your grandfather said that Aegon should become King, even though he had forced the Lordships many years earlier to pay tribute to my mother as the heir to the throne. This caused both her rights to the throne and your uncle's to be challenged throughout the kingdom, and there was no way out of the situation except war, which would have destroyed us all. Your appearance was a sign from the gods." She said softly, and her son nodded, something like relief on his face. He stared ahead for a moment, playing with his fingers.

"Do you know when Princess Alyssa will return?" He asked quietly, as if embarrassed.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, remembering that, in fact, Alicent, Helaena and her two daughters had travelled to the Old Town some time ago to visit Dareon.

"Well. I do not know that." She answered truthfully.

Alyssa was the youngest child of Aegon and Helaena, already born after the Targaryen family's great truce, and in accordance with this agreement, she lived with her parents in the Red Keep.

She had inherited her mother's beautiful, delicate beauty and her father's cheerful, loud character, while retaining her gentleness and warmth. She used to laugh and speak a lot, hence it seemed to her that her son, withdrawn and quiet by nature, watched her from afar with indulgence and irritation rather than curiosity.

"Are you fond of her?" She continued, wanting to get more out of him, and he simply nodded.

"She is kind." He replied, playing between his fingers with the page of the book on his lap.

She smiled at him involuntarily, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Let's write her a letter then."

______

Author's note: This is my most important, favorite and longest series since The Impossible Choice, Glass Cuts Deepest and The Man in the Black Mask and I must admit that I didn't expect it would have so many chapters. The story of Aemond and Rhaenys is special to me. Thank you for the wonderful reception of this series. There is also an epilogue coming, which you will read from the three diffirent perspectives: Viserys's, Aemond's and Rhaenys's.

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.7 K Warnings: Angst (like pretty much every chapter so far). ♡THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SMUT ♡: fingering, masturbati*n, Soft!Sirius, dirty dreams, Needy!Remus. Consent is Sexy! Prompt: The moon is so close and Rem can't control his isnticts as much as he'd wish. And so, he gives into his desires (sort of). This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it

Chapter 51: Some Guys Have all the Luck

♡ SMUT BELOW ♡

“You think Remus’ll be alright?” You asked as you lay on the bed, looking up at James’ fancy mouldings.  

Sirius sighed. “Yeah, the Moon is tomorrow and we had a bit of an argument earlier…” 

You leaned on your elbow and turned to him, “Wait really, about what?” 

“Nothing relevant, just– it was stupid, but I think that’s why he skipped the cuddles today.” 

“Pair of idiots,” you said as you pulled onto his hair. 

“Oi!” he complained, and then smiled devilishly, you knew he was going to kiss you even before he leaned closer and pressed his mouth to yours. It was meant to be a short kiss, but you parted your mouth and sucked on his lip in a way you knew he loved and he couldn’t pull apart. 

Sirius placed his hands on either side of you and slid one of them under your shirt as you kissed. It was nothing he hadn’t done before, but it felt different now, since you knew how far you were both willing to take it. 

“May I make you feel as good as you made me feel earlier?” he whispered into your mouth. 

You smiled and pressed another kiss to his mouth in response, seconds later, Sirius traced his hand down your stomach, and further down, slipping his hand under the hem of your pyjama pants and pinching the side of your leg. You bit his lip in retort and he smiled at your eagerness. 

He was slow, slower now than in the fae pool as he traced your slit, just on the outside of your knickers until he dug in. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispered, more to himself than to you and then brought his hand up to his face and sniffed, his finger almost brushing his lips. You swallowed at the sight, you wanted to tease him for it, but it had been one of the hottest things you had ever seen him do. 

He dug his hand back in and started to roll his fingers in the way he had learned you liked and he had you sighing and panting while you bit your lip, trying not to make too much noise. That was when the door slammed open. 

Remus had gone up to the room to change into something more comfortable for the night, and the last thing he was expecting was to find you and Sirius making out on the bed. On the same fucking bed he had slept last night and would probably sleep on the next. “Sorry,” he said as he spotted you and averted his gaze, not without realising where Sirius’ hand had been. He tried not to think too much about it. Not about Sirius stating you had been amazing and incredible and fantastic and everything great because then, he would have jumped in the bed right in between the two of you. “I- ugh… just came to get some clothes,” he added, rushing towards his trunk and taking the first thing he found before. 

You gave Sirius a look and nodded for him to go speak to Remus. He shook his head and pressed a finger to your folds. Remus was still in the fucking room. You threw him a stern look and pouted. “Go,” you mouthed. 

Sirius made a bit of an exaggerated expression but took his hand from your pants and stood from the bed. 

“Hey Moons, can we talk?” he asked as he pressed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. By now you had turned around and placed a pillow over your head trying to hide the mortifying embarrassment that consumed you. 

“What?” Remus asked, voice a tone higher, he didn’t miss the glistening on Sirius’ other hand, but the hardest thing to ignore was the smell. Fucking hell, they smell like sin. Remus would have gone to hell to be able to bask in it. It was obvious what you had been doing and he was –for a second time that day– wishing he had borrowed James’ cloak, to at least be able to watch. 

I’m a terrible friend, he thought. But Sirius looked genuinely concerned, and it was that honest look in his beautiful eyes that brought him back to reality. “I’m sorry,” Sirius said and bit his lip, leaning closer to Moony. “I was a bit of an ass, I was very excited but that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have told you about all those,” his lips almost brushed on Moony’s cheek, “details.” 

Sirius was having an internal turmoil of his own, Remus looked so handsome with his casual band shirt and tousled hair, his lips were pink as if he had bitten them and he wanted to kiss them in the same way he had kissed you. He had leaned into him on purpose, he wanted to feel him, which is why his hand was on his shoulder, and he’d wanted to smell him too. He always smelled as delightful as you did, of course, he felt like shit for it.

He had quite literally been making out with you, fingers touching you and it had been so thrilling and then new, lewd thoughts had invaded his mind, but they didn’t include you. Not only you at least. He might have been the worst boyfriend on the face of the earth. Perhaps that’s how his father had been to his mother and that’s why they resented each other so much, perhaps he had also been thinking of someone else, or fantasising about things that weren’t meant to be, ever. 

“It’s okay, we got over that, Pads.” 

“But you– you skipped cuddles and–” 

“Because of my throat,” Remus lied, trying to ignore the bulge forming in his pants and the slight tent on Sirius’ from whatever the hell you had been up to –he did not want to think about it in specifics. Resisting the bIoody temptation to take Sirius’ hands and smell what he’d been doing, to lick the shine away. He held the blush creeping up his cheek at the mere idea of it. “I’m… uh” –he hesitated– “I’m gonna go,” he added, bunched up the clothes in his hands and walked towards the exit. “Good night, Little Witch!” 

“Night Rem,” you said, still under the pillow. 

Sirius was quick to walk back to the bed, “Sorry about–” 

“Next time we spell shut that door,” you said, voice muffled by the sheets under your face. Sirius pressed a tender kiss to your hair and started to rub your back in soft circles, he knew you must have been embarrassed. 

“It was just Moony, he’s seen us do worse–” 

“He has not,” you said, cheeks burning. “He must have been so shocked, damn it.” 

“Well, I mean, It’s only natural–” You shoved him and he laughed, pressing another kiss to your hair. 

You let out a long sigh and then turned to him,  lifting the pillow and leaning your head on it instead, “Hold up, did you wash your hand?” 

“Why would I, it smells great.” 

Remus would have agreed. 

“Ugh… Puppy,” you said with a disgusted expression. He pouted and brought it into his mouth, this time sucking on his fingers in the most lewd way you had ever seen, your eyes went wide before you hit his shoulder. “Such a dog!” 

“They’re clean now, though,” he said as he showed both fingers and moved them for you to see.

You scoffed wryly and hit him again, he only laughed, pressed a short kiss to your lips, and then another one, and then one more until your disgruntled expression was gone. Stupid Sirius Black, he could be so bIoody sweet if he wanted to. And he knew. 

“Veux-tu me câliner, Étoile?” He asked, voice soft, his eyes filled with mirth as if he knew you wouldn’t refuse. 

You sighed. “Sirius,” you smiled. 

“S’il te plaît?”

You scoffed and leaned in close to him, wrapping your arms around his torso and leaning your head on his chest, he pulled you closer when he had the chance, and leaned into your ear, “We’ll finish what we started earlier on a different day,” he promised. 

“Shh,” you said in return, still worried someone might get in. That Remus would get in again. The things he’ll think of us, the images stuck in his head, you thought, still distressed. 

And images in his head there were. He was trying to think of anything else, anything that would drag his thoughts away from what he’d seen, away from what Sirius had told him, away from his sheen-coated fingers, but it all kept coming back to him. 

Sleep, he had to sleep. That would surely make him forget. He went to get one of the sleeping potions that Pomfrey had given him and took a few sips before throwing himself on the bed and hiding his face with the pillow. The potion, thankfully worked its magic on him and he was asleep sooner than later, thoughts gone, and mind blank. 

Until it wasn’t. Remus didn’t dream very often, his sleep deprivation often stopped him from getting his needed rest and when he dreamed, it was mostly after the moon when he was doped with sleep meds. He didn’t think of that when he downed the potion, he only wanted to get his mind off things in that instant. 

And he didn’t have those kinds of dreams often either. Sure, he’d had a lot of them back in 3rd and 4rth year when he was figuring himself out, and sure he had been horrified by some of them when he woke up until he accepted who he was and what he liked. But he didn’t have those as much anymore. Of course, they’d have to come back that day. 

In his dream, the two of you had invited him to the fae pool, you had told him he had to see the colours and then Sirius had proposed for the three of you to get in. That’s when things got lewd. Both you and Sirius stripped and threw yourselves into the water. Kissing each other and then kissing him. It had been so real, he could feel your bodies against his, he could feel your wet kisses on his mouth and lips. He woke up in a heap of sweat and groaned when he realised how hard he was. 

“Fuck,” he said and turned to look at his pants. Feeling mortified over having sexualised his two best friends like that. What would you even think of him if you found out? Would you stop talking to him, would you tell him how much of a pervert he was? 

Fucking Sirius, he had put all those images on his head and things were only getting worse. Walking, he thought, a little bit of walking might take my mind off things. Or a book, I could get that book I left in the living room. Remus took a deep breath, adjusted his tight trousers as best as he could and quietly walked down the stairs. He walked from the living room towards the kitchen, and then to the entrance hall. It was the longest aisle that was also the furthest from the house so he started pacing there. 

Long strides, from the door to the archway that led into the living room and then back. He was thinking about homework and about things he had to study and about anything he could think of that wasn’t you and Sirius. But of course, you always went back to his mind. Either on the Fae Pool, which he had a very clear image on his head by now, or on the bed, with Sirius’ hand digging under your pants and touching you. 

Fuck… fuck.. fuck! Remus couldn’t get the godricdamned smell off his head. It was as if it was fucking there. As if you were fucking there. It was probably because of the moon, his senses were always a mess when the moon was so close and it was proving to be a real fucking nightmare to try and fight against the urges of the wolf. 

Hold up, he couldn’t get the smell off his nose either. He looked around, searching on the corners of the room trying to locate the source of the smell, his eyes finally locked to his coat. 

“My coat?” he wondered as he approached the offending item. He took in his hands and leaned in. “Fuck!”

He quickly remembered Sirius had taken his coat when he left, but it smelled heavily like you. All of it, it was saturated with your smell. It was as if you were there with him, both of you since it still smelled like Sirius. But your smell was much more prominent. He couldn’t understand why until he felt the trace of magic, a drying spell. 

She wore it when wet. FUCK, SHE WORE IT WHEN WET!

The image now solidified in his mind wasn’t helping his case, you wearing his coat, and nothing other than his coat sent another rush of bIood down. He sniffed the coat, burying his head inside of it when he felt his cheeks burn. Lust? Embarrassment? Shame? What was the difference at this point? Moony wouldn’t care. 

Sirius, behind you, placing the coat on you, lightly brushing his fingers on your shoulder before allowing it to wrap around you. Your nipples hard from the cold air after being in such a warm pool brushing against the rough fabric. Sirius looking flushed, his hair still wet and cascading down his bare shoulders. It was an absolute visage. 

Remus felt his pants tightening even more. He knew then that there would be no other way out of this other than through. Perhaps if he used those images now, they’d lose the power they had over him, and then he would get over the stupid crush that kept gnawing at him. He bit his lips in shame as he reached down with one of his hands, gently unlacing the bow on his chequered sleep pants before digging his hand inside. 

He groaned when he felt how hard he’d gotten with the mere imagery of you and Sirius. He hid his shame-filled face on the coat and smelled again, allowing the scents to enrapture him as he patted himself, lightly, teasingly, a soft and much-needed release to his struggle. When he wrapped his hand around his cock, he bit his lip even sharper to hold back a groan, using his other hand to push part of the coat into his face in an attempt to muffle the sound. He moved his hand over his boxers, tracing himself softly until he grew tired and desperate and dug his hand behind the elastic. 

He was painfully hard. And he almost flinched when he felt his hand wrap around himself. He then remembered yours, how much softer it was, how much smaller, he imagined it was you and not him the one touching him, he pretended his scars were your fading broom marks and that it was your thumb brushing against his tip in the way he liked it instead of his. 

He imagined the coat was your shoulder, and that Sirius was just behind the two of you, pressing gentle kisses to his temple and hair as he praised the muffled sounds Remus was trying to hide. He remembered the way your bodies felt pressed into his. Back in the snow day, and when you cuddled, how one was soft, and gentle, and the other toned and strong. Sirius’ smile, Sirius’ hair, your hair, your lips, he had kissed your lips, what a lovely taste they had held. Sirius’ kiss, much longer ago, much shorter than the one he’d given you, but just as present in his mind. 

Remus completely lost himself on the thought of you as he stroked, becoming number and dumber to the world outside of him. So enraptured in what he imagined you sounded like, that he completely missed the quiet steps coming down the stairs. 

You had woken up a few minutes ago, the fact that Remus had refused cuddles still nagging you. You laid there, looking up at the mouldings again while you heard James’ light snoring and Sirius’ soft and warm breath. Something was missing. 

Remus was missing. 

It was his soft breath, his warm hands, the pleased smile he sometimes had while he was sleeping. You had gotten so fucking used to it these past few days, they had been the reassuring sounds and sights that tied you back to reality and away from Christmas, and you missed it, and you felt ridiculous over the fact that you did. You couldn’t depend on him, he was your best friend but he was also only your best friend. He didn’t owe anything to you, let alone to be the comforting figure whenever you felt triggered or had a sad memory. 

It wasn’t his duty to deal with your problems, it was no one’s obligation. You’d have to learn to deal with your own shit, not become so attached to your friends that you become dysfunctional without them. You were sure Remus would eventually find someone who liked him, who loved him, truly did. And then what would be of you? 

No matter how much you loved him, you couldn’t afford to hinge on him the way you had so far, you couldn’t hinge on anyone like that. You had never done it, and you wouldn’t start to crumble apart and do it now that things got harder. If you had to deal with it on your own, then you’d find a way. At least you were good with that.

“You okay?” Sirius asked when he noticed the stirring on the bed. Eyes closed and hand searching for you. 

“Yeah,” you said softly, placing your hand on his head and brushing his curls behind his ear, enjoying the softness of his features underneath your thumbs. “Just thirsty.” 

“Want me to come down with you?” 

“No, don’t worry, Luv,” you said. “I’ll just get some water and come back,” you added and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. He smiled when he felt your lips on his face and kept that smile even as you slid off the bed and looked for a pair of shoes. 

You were quick and quiet as you walked down the stairs, walking straight to the kitchen and serving yourself a simple glass of water. You had just brought it to your lips when you heard a strained sound. You frowned and placed the water back on the table, paying close attention to the sounds. You heard it again, and then something close to a sob. 

Remus! You thought as you looked around worried. Is he crying? you wondered. He had been there for you every single time, you weren’t about to go back and ignore it completely. You weren’t sure where he was, but decided to be quiet as you looked for him, since you didn’t want to scare him off before you got close enough to wrap your arms around him and comfort him. 

The sounds were soft and almost imperceptible, as if was using something to muffle his sobs. Not in the living room, definitely not in the kitchen. You were so worried for him that you didn’t even realise that he wasn’t crying while you followed the sounds. Finally, you found where he was. When you spotted him he was hunched against the coat rack, right next to the door, head buried in his coat. 

You took a step forward, ready to embrace him when you heard something that sounded nothing like a sob, and everything like a moan. Your eyes went wide, and your breath hitched in your throat. Another moan, and then a grunt. You stared, one of his hands was holding the coat to his face, the other one… the other one was moving, quite fast. You turned around in an instant, cheeks burning as you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to delete the image of Remus jerking off from your brain. 

Ragged breaths, panting, moaning, how the hell had you confused that with sobbing and tears? You felt like an intruder, interfering with his private moment. Although he had done it in the fucking entrance hall, what the fuck was he thinking? 

You decided not to question his actions and after gulping, you started with slow, quiet steps towards the stairs. Much quieter now than you had been before since you knew he had exceptional hearing. 

I shouldn’t be listening to this, I shouldn’t be listening to this, you thought. 

Remus, still wrapped up in his mind, hadn’t even heard a thing, not your hitched breath nor your stumbling while you tried to get out. He was still in the fae pool, his head buried in your hair and now Sirius’ hand around his cock. 

What a wondrous thing the mind can be, not even his dream had been as lively as his imagination was proving to be at the moment. “Fuck,” he whispered when he felt he was close, you had just pressed a kiss to his neck. Sirius’ hand movements had become much faster as he fucked into it, now hip thrusts meeting with hand strokes. 

And then he felt it, the rush of adrenaline surging through him. “Sirius,” he whispered, soft, but clear as water. His mind now brought him back to the real world as he realised the kisses weren’t real and the smell that felt so vivid came only from the coat. What a sublime and yet wretched thing had that coat become in a matter of minutes. It had gone from his two best friends, to a simple coat, and then one stained in his cum, he hadn’t even had enough time to catch it with his hand.

What? you thought as you turned back to the door. Did I imagine that? you wondered, but the ragged breath, the soft sound of Remus’ voice, it hadn’t been strained, it wasn’t debatable whether he had said  Cyprus or Sirius. It had been fucking evident, clean cut and obvious. Painfully so. 

Remus Lupin had cum on his hand while thinking of Sirius Black. Your boyfriend Sirius Black.

There was another course, and then Remus’ soft voice again, “Evanesco.” 

You swallowed and ran towards the bathroom, closing the door as quietly as possible and then locking yourself inside. You sat on the toilet seat and ran your hands through your hair. Maybe he had said Cyprus. Maybe it was a different Sirius. 

But sweeter lies couldn’t have been told, it was obvious. It had been obvious for a while but you had been blind to it. Blinded by the love we have for our friends, you remembered, it had been Remus the one to tell you that. 

But it really had been there all along, the way he looked at Sirius sometimes, a look that you’d found interesting but weren’t sure why. The way he talked about him, the way his hands would linger on Sirius’ the way he seemed to always be around. How he had looked at Sirius back at the Halloween party, how he had run away the minute Sirius had licked his face. 

How he had gone straight to Alice and kissed his sorrows away, and you, you had been kissing Sirius too, displaying all the love and affection you felt to each other for his torment. No wonder Moony was often angry, no wonder he sometimes stepped away from you and Sirius. 

No fucking wonder, he hadn’t cuddled with Vixen and Pads that night. If Sirius told him– if he guessed, what had happened in the fae pool… You let out a soft, defeated breath. You had been displaying your affection for Sirius, waving it like a flag in the air while your best friend was deeply in love with him.

Fuck he saw us in the room too, you thought then, Sirius kissing you, his hand deep in your pants, and then he went and talked to Moony, touched Moony. Such an unbound cruelty you had committed against your best friend!  Of course, you hadn’t known, and you would have never done it on purpose if you did. But even in your nescience, even in your blindness, you had done it, you had hurt him, and ignorance was no excuse. 

How many times? You wondered, how many times had Remus been forced to see you kissing Sirius? Forced to see you all over each other, perched on his lap, playing with his hair, kissing his face. How many times had you talked to him about Sirius? 

How many times have I made him suffer?

Because, was there anything else he could do? Just sit and watch, in silence. Suddenly you realised, when he told you he liked both men and women and you had thought that he seemed to want to say more, perhaps he was about to confess his feelings for Sirius. You gulped, he had seen you cry, he had seen your red-rimmed eyes, and he had decided to shut up, to swallow his feelings instead of admitting them. For your sake. 

What an extraordinary friend you had, and what a dreadful one you were.

How long had it been since he fell in love with Sirius? How long did he have to suffer being into him? Sirius who went on dates and was known for being a player. The Sirius you hadn’t met but you had heard about from whispers in the halls. The Sirius people talked about when they made bets about the duration of your relationship. 

Secrets, Remus had so many of those, how wrong had you been when you thought you already knew them all...

You silently squeezed your hand on your arm as you reprimanded yourself for being such a terrible friend. What were you to do now? Stop kissing Sirius in public? With what fucking explanation? Sirius loved PDA, the entire world knew it. Perhaps you had to talk to Remus instead, but then again, how would you even go about it? 

‘Hey, I saw you jerking off while thinking of my boyfriend, wanna talk about it?’

You sighed again, defeated, so sure you wouldn’t find a solution, and your mind drifted to Sirius. There is no way he knows, right? 

You were certain he had no idea Moony was bi and if he didn’t know that, then there was no way he knew of the feelings Remus harboured for him, and there was no way to make him understand the dire situation you were both in. Oblivious to the pain you had caused to Remus. Oblivious to the one you continued to infringe. 

You couldn’t even blame Remus for falling in love, you had done the same, you understood him perfectly and it only made you feel worse, that you had been the chosen one and not him. What you’d give to bear his heartache, with everything he had done for you, it was the least he deserved. 

And there was Sirius, always touchy, always soft, always happy to be around Moony, always happy to cuddle him and play with him and touch him, the lingering hands never seen as something bad, the stares met with smiles and games. The concessions he had given him, both for you and for himself. You were sure he wouldn’t allow any other boy to be close to you as he did with Remus, at least not in the same way you were close. 

Wait a minute.

Special concessions: the jumpers, the looks, the touching… what if Sirius-?

There was a soft knocking on the door. “Starshine, are you there?” 

“Sirius? What are you doing here?” 

“I thought something might’ve happened to you, you said you came for water but it’s been a while.” 

“Oh.” Of course, he asked if you wanted him to come along. “Yeah, no. Everything’s fine, I just– girl stuff,” you improvised. 

There was a moment of silence. “Is there anything I can do for you?” 

You stood up and flushed the bathroom, washing your hands and face before stepping out, “Don’t worry about it,” you said as you flashed him a smile. 

He placed his arm around you and the two of you walked back to the room, James still slept like a rock. 

Friday, January 7th, 1977 - Full Moon

Effie and Monty had already left, and they’d be back in the morning with potions for Remus. You’d left Sirius sleeping and James had gone for a very early flight. You joined him when you realised he was gone and tried to fly fast enough to leave your thoughts behind.

It didn’t work, the images of last night would come back to your head every now and then, and you were left speeding so fast it was almost unsafe. James didn’t know of what’d happened last night, but that didn’t mean he didn’t notice your change in demeanour, he just assumed it had to do with the Christmas Party rather than with anything going on in his house.

“Hey! Wait up!” He said as he tried to catch up with you. “You’re going too fast, you’ll lose control.” 

You turned to him with a confused glance and then started to slow down, so fast that James went on a few metres until he realised you had stopped. He turned around and flew your way. He wanted to ask you if you were all right, but he’d already seen –more than once– how you’d clam up after either one of them even referred to what happened at the party, or to your wand problem or to anything even remotely close to it, and today was a beautiful day, he didn’t want to ruin it by being intrusive. 

“Race you home, yeah?” he said instead. 

You smirked at that and nodded, “You’re on.” 

Racing was good, you rarely backed down from a fight, let alone from a game like that. James knew you well enough and he was using that to his advantage, he was aware it’d help you get your mind off whatever was troubling it, and he was determined to help, even if it was by aiding you in the stubborn evasion of your own feelings. 

You were both at the same invisible starting line, looking at each other attentively. “Three…” he started.

“Two…” 

“One, GO!” he said almost a little too fast and took off. 

“Hey, that’s cheating!” you complained with a laugh. 

“You would have caught up with me anyway,” James shouted from a couple of metres ahead as he turned to look at you and then. “Just takin’ a headstart for it to be a more fair race.” 

“It’s still cheating!” You laughed again and leaned over your broom a little, close enough so your own body would cut like a dart through the air instead of offering resistance. You caught up with him in seconds. He looked at you flying next to him and scoffed. He’d expected to at least last a little bit longer in the first place. “Maybe you were right.” 

James scoffed at your cocky words and leaned down on his broom in the same way you had done, trailing next to you, behind by no more than half a metre. “It’s unfair how fast you are!” 

“It’s because I’m smaller, Prongsie, those big shoulders don’t help you all that much!” 

“Lily likes them, though.” 

You laughed at that and picked up some more speed, breaking just before you crashed head-first into one of his windows. 

“That’s bIoody insane!” Sirius said as opened the window to look at James almost crashing face-first onto him. “Don’t fucking injure my girlfriend with your games, Prongs!” 

“There’s a higher chance he gets injured than me,” you said with a laugh from above and flew towards the window. “Sleep well?”

Sirius leaned his elbows on the window sill and then his chin on his hand, he looked very much like a princess from a book. “Not as well as when you were here,” he said with an exaggerated pout.

“Ugh, please!!” James complained. 

You smiled and leaned back on the broom a little. “Hey Prongsie, come over here, will you?” He did as told, you instantly leaned towards him. “What do you see over there?” you whispered as you pointed towards your boyfriend. 

“A twat,” he responded with a shit-eating smirk. Loud enough for Sirius to hear. 

“Oi!” Sirius complained. 

“I mean besides that,” you said with a similar smirk, Sirius looked at you as if he had been betrayed. “I mean, imagine if Sirius had slightly longer hair, golden, letting it fall to the window down to the floor.” 

James cackled after that, the picture so clear and vivid on his head it might as well have been painted, “Like Rapunzel?” 

You nodded and bit your lip, Sirius hadn’t heard, but he looked agitated as the two of you laughed, enough for him to stop leaning so casually on the window, and placing both hands on the sill to lean on them with a slightly bothered scoff. 

“Hey Rapunzel, let down your beautiful hair!” James teased. 

You laughed outwardly at that, Sirius was pouting now, he looked beyond adorable. 

That’s when you remembered another certain lady who used to linger by her window. You smiled, and cleared your throat “But soft what light through the yonder window breaks. It is the east and Sirius is the sun.” 

He gave you an exasperated look.

You bit your lip as you tried to hold a smile. “Arise, fair sun, and kiIl the envious moon.” 

You had not realised it, but Remus was just behind Sirius, witnessing the entire play. The envious moon, it certainly fits me, he thought, almost bitterly. 

“Oh, it is my love, see how he leans his cheek upon that hand. How I wish I were a glove upon that hand that I might touch that cheek.” 

“Oh, please,” Sirius said exasperated, although he was smiling now as if your theatre was as diverting as bothersome. 

“He speaks!” you said exaggeratedly as you turned to James wide-eyed, and then back at Sirius. “Oh, speak again, bright angel” 

“Are you done?” 

“O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” You continued, leaning closer to him. 

“That? Never!” Sirius said as he leaned a little closer to the window. “Come, fair maiden.” 

“Oh for fucks sake, he’s joined her,” James muttered under his breath as he watched the entire scene unfold. 

“Stony limits cannot hold love out,” you said as you flew closer to Sirius, a smile on your face, your nose was brushing against his and you had to bite your lips from the stupid lovesick smile you were withholding. 

Sirius laughed, and placed both of his hands around your face, “What satisfaction can I offer you, Étoile?” 

Did Sirius even read Romeo and Juliet? You wondered as you thought of your next line, “The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine… If my heart's dear love—” 

Sirius kissed you, interrupting your ramblings by dragging you towards him. James rolled his eyes from the side. “Oh, blessed, blessed night, I am afraid. Being it night, all this is but a dream…” you said in between a kiss. Dawn had come mere hours ago, your words made almost no sense, but you barely cared.

“Too flattering-sweet to be substantial,” Remus finished. You pulled from the kiss and stared at him. You paled. How long had he been there? How much of your silly game had he seen? 

“Remus, you’re awake.” You said. Sirius, oblivious as he was from what you’d seen last night, turned to Moony with a smile as bright as the star that carried his name. 

“Morning, Moons,” he said. 

Moony took a deep breath, it was a second, almost a flicker of it, but there was a sadness so deep you could almost feel the pang in your own heart. You faltered at it, feeling equally sorrowful. He then smiled, “Morning, Juliet,” he joked, and then turned to you with a soft nod, “Romeo.” 

“Juliet?” Sirius asked, confused, and turned to you. “Who’s Juliet?” 

“What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would still smell as sweet,” Remus replied. 

“It’s… uh–” you started.

“Doff thy name, And for that name which is no part of thee take all myself,” Remus added while looking straight at Sirius. You faltered again. 

Sirius had pulled back just a second, but he was looking into Remus’ eyes so deeply, and so enchanted by them, that you felt like an intruder. Like Romeo and Juliet had found each other and you were nothing more than a Paris or a Rosalind. You were so lost in your thoughts, that you flew to the side, and your boom got caught in a vine, making you lose balance and fall a couple of metres down to the bushes. 

“Vixen!” James said as he sped down, trying to catch you, but by the time he reached you, you were already in between the bushes. They had mostly broken your fall.

The loud thud was enough to break the trance of the boys and they had both leaned over the window to check on you, you heard them both calling, each using their own nickname for you. 

“Hey,” you said with an apologetic smile. Both Remus and Sirius looked mortified, James, who had seen you were all right, was just shaking his head in a disapproving manner. 

“Does Romeo fall off the Balcony at any point?” James asked you with a diverted smile. You stuck out your tongue at him. 

“Who the hell is Romeo?” Sirius asked, confused. 

“Shakespeare, mate! You live under a rock?” James replied, feeling entitled. He had only known about Romeo and Juliet because Lily had been telling him about the Shakespeare collection she had gotten Mary for Christmas on the train.

“Muggle?” Sirius asked, turning to Remus. 

“Oh, very,” he replied.

“Not all of it, Midsummer Night’s Dream has fairies.” 

“Are they as delightful as you are, Tinkerbell?” Sirius teased.

You rolled off the bushes and to the side, hiding your entire face in the snow and groaning. That nickname was your own fault, you had suggested Remus to read Peter Pan aloud and Sirius wouldn’t stop comparing you to her. “They’re equally obdurate!” he’d said, to Remus’ amusement. 

“You’ll get cold,” James said as he pulled you from the snow. 

“I don’t care,” you replied, turning to him with a pout, one of your cheeks still buried in the snow. “It’s actually good for your muscles.”

“Yeah sure,” James said as he pulled you up and turned to the window, “See you in the dining room?” 

“We’ll be down in a second,” Sirius said. 

“Are you sure you’re okay, Little Witch?” Remus asked, leaning his head over the window while Sirius removed his nightshirt to change into something else. 

You looked up at him too and placed your hand over your eyes, the day had gotten so bright you could barely look at him straight.

“Like softest music to attending ears!” You replied dramatically. 

Sirius leaned over his shoulder, shirtless with a confused face and you gave him a thumbs up, not missing the nervous look Moony threw his way as their bodies came into contact with each other. You looked down from that, remembering what had happened the previous night with a small frown. 

“Come on,” James said as he pulled you by the shoulder. “Mum must have something for falls on her potions cabinet.” 

“I’ve had much worse.” 

“Yeah, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt still,” James said with an all-knowing raise of the eyebrows. 

As you walked inside, you spotted Remus’ coat still in the hanger and instantly drove your sight to the other side. The elves had already placed breakfast on the table by the time you got to the room, and you went straight to take a seat while James went over the cupboard behind you and looked through the many potions their parents had brewed. 

You were resting your head on the table as you waited for the other boys to arrive. 

“Shadowshade?” James asked. 

“That’s for sunburns.” 

“Harmony Haze?” 

“Isn’t… isn’t that for singing better?” you asked as you turned to look at him, he shrugged in response and placed the potion back on the spot.

“Veil of Vigour?” 

You looked at him with your eyes wide open and stood up next to him, “Are you sure?” 

“That’s what it says, why?” He turned the label towards your face.

You leaned over his shoulder and whispered what that potion did to men.

“Shut up!” he said as he gasped. “Dad’s not that old!” 

“Maybe it’s for a friend?” you said with a shrug. James was still trying to process the information when you pointed to one of the others.

“That’s Skele-Gro,” he said. He took a small vial with green liquid and held it up to you, “Calming draught?” 

“No,” you said as you shook your head.  “That stuff knocks me out.” 

You pointed at one, “What does it say there?” 

James was better at deciphering his dad’s handwriting than you were. “Ce–“ he started. “Celestial Soothe.” He pulled it out from the cupboard in a second. “This is great actually,” he said as he walked towards the table and served about a quarter of a glass of water, “Dad used to give it to me when I was learning how to fly,” he took the dropper and trew around 8 drops on the glass. “It would take the pain away almost instantly.” 

“You fell a lot?” you teased as you took the glass he had in his hands and took a gulp. 

“You better sit down,” he said as he pulled a chair, you almost instantly relaxed onto it. “I was always trying to do stupid tricks so yes.” 

You laughed and took another drink, not only were you now a lot more relaxed, but the soreness from the fall was completely gone, not that it had been very painful, “Oh, wow.”

“Yeah,” James replied with a knowing smile as he sat down.  

Sirius and Remus came down the stairs seconds later, “Hey boys!” you said. Sirius walked straight towards you, sitting down on the closest chair and placing a soft kiss on your cheek before he served himself some orange juice.

“Tea, Luv?” Remus asked. You turned your gaze to him, he was looking at you apprehensively. Sirius leaned onto you, and you turned to look straight at the cup, avoiding your gaze entirely. 

“Please,” you responded as you looked at him serving. 

That look on his face, had it always been there? How hadn’t you seen it before?

Although what you saw as apprehension, was nothing other than longing. Yes, it often made Remus jealous that he couldn’t kiss you or Sirius with that same familiarity, that he had the memory of your lips engraved in his brain but that it was nothing more than that, a memory. Moony being so close to clawing his way out of him didn’t make him more lenient. But Remus was never uncomfortable if you kissed each other, heck he had imagined you kissing each other while he jerked off to the coat, the only difference there was that, in his delusion, you welcomed him to the kiss shortly after.

You were worried for him, you wanted to talk to him, but you didn’t even know how to begin. You couldn’t tell him you knew since it could sound like a threat, besides, he might pull apart from the both of you, and you would never want that to happen. Remus and Sirius drifting apart, you and Remus drifting apart, the idea ate you up from the inside out. You loved your friendship. And perhaps you were being selfish –if Remus was in pain– but you didn’t want things to change, you didn’t want more things to change. You didn’t want to lose Remus, the idea of him being a stranger, of him not speaking to you, of being unknown. It was harrowing.

You didn’t want to lose more friends, even if it meant only drifting apart, you just couldn’t bear the idea of it. 

And Remus was still Remus. He was still acting like he did all the time, playful and yet the voice of reason when the boys –and you– got unreasonable ideas. 

He placed your tea, prepared exactly how you liked it, next to your plate. He was the same. The only thing that had changed was your knowledge of the situation.

“Are we ready for tonight?” Sirius asked with a smile. “Effie and Monty left, right?” 

“Yup, earlier today,” James said as he popped some pancakes into his mouth. “Picksie and Mellie will catch up with them after lunch, I believe they’ll leave dinner ready.” 

“And you sure there will be no one else in the perimeter?” Remus asked apprehensively. 

“That’s why we were flying today in the morning,” James said.

“Before we decided to get into a race,” you added. You stood up and walked over to the bathroom. By the time you got back you realised James was talking about Tadpoles, and while Sirius looked at him attentively, Remus was lost in Sirius’ nodding profile, you felt so impossibly stupid. 

That look, so immensely similar to the way you looked at Sirius all the time, eyes fixed on him, lost on him. How hadn’t you seen it before?  Undeniable as the full moon, Remus was lost on him, and you didn’t blame him at all. 

Remus said something to James and Sirius cackled, that’s when you realised that Sirius’ gaze also lingered on the other boy.

It was in the way he’d brighten up when Remus smiled, in the way he would laugh louder if Rem cracked a joke, in the way he would look for him when he wasn’t around and in the way he would often ask about him when he was gone. 

Had he been like that with you too? 

You didn’t want to think much about it, you were so in love with Sirius, with everything about Sirius that you had never stopped to think, to really think, if he was as in love with you as you were with him, and then again, even if he was, what about Remus? 

“Starshine,” he said as he looked past Remus’ shoulder and towards you, “Did you hear that?” 

You shook your head and gulped, “I must have missed it, What was it?” 

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: Well this one's a bit of a rollercoaster, wasn't it? At least someone finally SAW something!

Read more Marauders Fiction

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Hi!! Evil Queens WandaNat have me in a chokehold. Can you do some nsfw head cannons for them? 🤭💕

Evil Queens!Wandanat x fem!maid HC

SFW

-Wanda is the more affectionate of the two, often showering you with gentle touches, sweet kisses, and soft words of praise. She takes pleasure in making you feel cherished and adored, ensuring you know your worth to her.

-Natasha, on the other hand, is more demanding. She expects perfection in all tasks and uses her dominance to remind you of your place. Her touches are firm, her kisses possessive, and she enjoys seeing you submit to her authority.

-Both queens are fiercely protective of you. They don't tolerate anyone else trying to take advantage of your skills or your affections. Any perceived threat to their hold on you is swiftly dealt with, often in ways that leave no room for misunderstandings.

-Wanda loves to braid your hair or brush it gently after a long day. She finds it therapeutic and enjoys the closeness it brings.

-Natasha has a habit of leaving small marks on your skin, not necessarily visible, but enough for you to feel her presence even when she’s not around. A nip here, a bruise there, each a silent reminder of her claim on you.

-They use you in a variety of ways. Sometimes, they want you to simply sit on their laps while they handle their royal duties, your presence a soothing comfort to them. Other times, they demand your more intimate services, turning their chambers into a space of intense passion.

NSFW

-Natasha often takes the lead in the bedroom, her dominant nature coming to the forefront. She enjoys pushing your limits, testing your obedience and resilience.

-Wanda complements Natasha’s dominance with her own brand of sensual control. She uses sensory play to heighten your senses, creating an intoxicating blend of pleasure and pain that leaves you craving more.

-Occasionally, Wanda and Natasha enjoy reversing roles. Natasha might allow Wanda to take the lead, watching with intense interest as Wanda teases and tortures you.

-During these sessions, Natasha might take a more passive role, offering encouragement or delivering orders to both you and Wanda, her voice low and commanding.

-The queens derive a certain thrill from the risk of being caught. They might summon you to their chambers during a busy day, making you pleasure them while they conduct court business, knowing that someone could walk in at any moment.

-Natasha is strict when it comes to discipline. If you displease her, she isn’t afraid to administer punishments, which could range from spanking to more elaborate forms of bondage and sensory deprivation.

-Wanda’s approach to punishment is more psychological. She might deny you pleasure, edging you for hours without release until you’re begging for mercy.

-Both queens enjoy restraining you, though their methods differ. Natasha prefers physical restraints—ropes, cuffs, and chains—enjoying the sight of you helplessly bound. Wanda prefers to simply use her hands for restraining, always wanting to touch you in some way.

-When they decide to take you together, their coordination is impeccable. Natasha’s rough, commanding presence contrasts perfectly with Wanda’s sensual, teasing touch.

-They take turns pleasuring you, sometimes working in tandem. Natasha might hold you down, whispering dirty words in your ear, while Wanda uses her powers and hands to bring you to the edge repeatedly.

-Natasha enjoys watching Wanda play with you, her eyes dark with desire as she observes. She might give instructions or simply enjoy the show, her own arousal building as she watches you submit to Wanda’s magical touch.

-Wanda finds it thrilling to have an audience and often performs for Natasha, knowing exactly how to drive both you and her partner wild with need.

-The queens have developed a system of secret signals to communicate their desires to you discreetly. A specific look or gesture can mean it’s time to drop everything and attend to them, no matter where you are or what you’re doing.

-Natasha loves to edge you, bringing you to the brink of orgasm over and over again without allowing you release. She takes pleasure in your frustrated moans and begs for mercy.

-Occasionally, they dress you in revealing or provocative outfits, enjoying the sight of you looking both elegant and debauched. These outfits are often designed to be easily removed or provide easy access for their hands and mouths.

-They take pleasure in undressing you slowly, savoring the sight of your skin being revealed inch by inch.

-Despite their intense dominance, both queens are meticulous about aftercare. They know the physical and emotional toll their sessions can take and ensure you’re well taken care of afterward.

-Wanda is particularly attentive, ready to heal any marks or bruises, while Natasha holds you close, her touch surprisingly gentle as she reassures you of your value to them.

[flemingsfreckles]

Physio’s Daughter Part 12

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Read the rest of the series here!

Warnings: cursing, mentions of sex

WC: 4.5k

A/N: this is the final chapter in this “present” time frame. The next and actual final chapter will be more of an epilogue. If you skipped the smut chapter i tried to make sure I reiterated everything that was plot related so that you don’t feel like anything is missing from the storyline.

You’re woken up by the bed shifting. You roll and adjust a few times before cracking open your eyes, you squint at the harsh sunlight coming in before rolling over to see Jessie already awake. She’s sitting up, back against the headboard, book in her hands. She’s got the blanket pulled up, just covering her chest but leaving her collarbones exposed.

After the two of you had showered you went to lay in bed. You had thrown on a pair of underwear and almost put on a shirt before remembering previous texts you and Jessie had sent months ago. You asked if she’d be comfortable with you sleeping shirtless, she had no problem with it and much to your surprise she never put on a shirt either. The two of you cuddled skin to skin and this time you held her, your legs tangled together and your arm slung across her midsection as you both fell asleep.

She puts down the book she’s reading when she sees you’re awake. “Hi.” She says leaning over to be closer to you. Her hair is messy, her smile is soft, she looked so beautiful, you couldn’t believe you were finally waking up in her bed while she was still in it.

“Hi.” You smile back at her. You run your fingers through your own hair, trying to somewhat control it.

“How are you? Are you alright?” As she asks Jessie puts the book onto the nightstand and shifts to bring herself back into a lying position so she is face to face with you.

“I’m good.” That was a lie, you were more than good, you were waking up, after a night of sex, good sex, with Jessie. You had gotten to spend a couple hours with her body on yours and yours on hers, the two of you tangled in the bedsheets, your name on her lips. You got to enjoy every aspect of her and then all over again in the shower. You both had also agreed to keep going on dates, to keep seeing each other. You were on cloud nine. But you didn’t know if Jessie felt the same, so you say you’re good. “How are you?”

“I’m good, I feel good about last night.” Her eyes trail to your neck at the mention of last night's activities.

“Yeah, the sex was good.” You wanted to know more than just about the sex though. “Um, do you still feel good about what we talked about? If not that’s okay, if it was just something you said in a post orgasm haze I get it, but-”

“Yes, I still feel good about that. That wasn’t just the orgasm talking, I want to try this, try us.”

“Me too.” You say and Jessie leans in, putting her lips to yours bringing you into a slow make out. Her hands quickly find their way to your stomach. Her fingers dance along your sides, moving upward toward your chest. A knock on the door has her hands quickly off of your skin and you jumping at the startling noise.

“Ughhh.” Jessie groans when she pulls her lips off of yours. She moves quickly to grab a shirt and a pair of shorts before throwing a shirt in your direction. “That’s probably Janine. Your pants are over there if you want them before she comes in.” Not wanting Janine to see you in your underwear you scramble to the other side of the room where the blue sweatpants you had worn the first night you slept over were. You tossed them on and sat back down on the bed as Jessie made her way to the door.

“What the hell do you need makeup for? First of all when do you ever wear makeup? Second, we’re getting on a flight in like 8 hours.” You hear Janine question Jessie as the door closes behind her.

You don’t hear Jessie respond from where you sat on the bed and you quickly see them both come around the corner. Jessie makes quick eye contact with you before she steps out of the way and reveals you to Janine. Janine looks at you for one second, her eyes immediately widen as they catch the deep red color on your neck.

“Oh my.” Janine is quickly bent over in front of you and Jessie, clutching her stomach laughing hysterically. “That’s-” she tries to speak but falls into another fit of laughter when she looks at your neck again. When she stands back up this time you can see the tears from laughing in her eyes. “Oh this is too fucking good.” The smile on her face is massive. She’s still laughing.

“Janinnnne.” Jessie whines. “Stop laughing.” She frowns at her friend, crossing her arms, unamused by the fact that Janine finds the hickey hilarious.

“No. I can laugh. I’m here to help, I’m allowed to laugh. If you wanted somebody who wouldn’t laugh you should’ve called someone else.” Janine says as she plops down the bag she brought onto the desk. And she then walks over to you and grabs your chin to tilt your head up. She chuckles again before looking over to Jessie. “Goddamn Jeff, seriously what the hell were you thinking?”

“It was an accident!” Jessie throws her arms out.

Not believing her story Janine rolls her eyes before she walks over to her makeup bag, grabbing a tube and comes back over to you. “Oh was it? I’m sorry, did she trip and fall and her neck ended up on your lips?”

“That's not what I meant.” Jessie huffs and her arms return to being crossed harshly over her chest. She finds her way to bed sitting down next to you.

“I know that’s not what you meant, but also obviously that,” she gestures to your neck, “isn’t an accident.” She continues placing a cream over the area. Janine is still letting out small laughs when she looks at the way both you and Jessie are blushing hard.

“It was! I didn’t think I was sucking that hard.” Jessie continued to try and defend her actions.

“But you were sucking. You should know better, idiot, put them somewhere they can be covered.” You look over to the side, you felt bad for Jessie this was equally your fault, she shouldn’t be taking all the teasing.

“It’s my fault too, I bruise easily, and she did put them where they can be covered too, in her defense.” You finally speak. You watch as Jessie’s eyes quickly dart down to your chest, where those covered hickeys were. She bites her lip to hold in the smile that is trying to come across her face.

Janine’s mouth drops as she watches the way Jessie’s eyes move down and back up. “Gross. I still can not believe you’re 26 giving hickeys.”

Jessie drops her head into her palms and lets out a frustrated groan. “Can we stop with the parenting lecture? This is your fault too for pretty much encouraging us to do this.”

“No way this is my fault.” Janine takes her hands off of your face and neck for a second, looking offended at Jessie.

“You let us have the room to ourselves.” Jessie gestures to the bed and the room.

“Yeah but I didn’t tell you two to go fuck.” She says before turning back toward the desk to grab something else from her bag.

“You sort of did.” Jessie says.

When Janine turns back from the desk looking confused, you fill her in on the details she clearly lost to the drinks she had that night. “At the after party, you made some suggestions, and comments to both of us, but you had been drinking so…”

“Oh.”

“Can we please change the subject to something besides what we did last night?” Jessie asks.

“Sure, but just to be clear with both of you, I cannot promise this will be completely covered. I’ll do my best though.” Janine goes back to putting in work on your neck, she and Jessie fall into a conversation about Portland and you just sit there hoping that Janine will be able to blend in the hickey well enough that no one would be able to notice.

Of course, despite Janine’s efforts, you still had to answer questions regarding your evening regardless if the hickey was visible. Olivia was the first to ask about your whereabouts as soon as you got through the hotel room door.

“Given you didn’t come home, is it fair to assume your little date went well?” She asked as she was packing up camera equipment, her clothes still sprawled across her bed, not packed.

“Um, yeah, you could say that.” You can feel yourself blushing. Olivia looks up from the bed, eyebrow raised at you. She studies your face for a second and then begins shouting at you.

“Oh my god, you got laid! Did you and Jessie have sex?!”

“Shhhh.” You put your finger to your lips. “I don’t need the whole city knowing.”

Olivia’s face of shock doesn’t change. “You actually did?”

You give her a small nod, diverting your eyes to the floor, suddenly feeling shy about how your night went. “She really liked the whole sitting on the pitch thing, and then we had the picnic and we kissed, and then she offered for me to sleep over again, and yeah, that happened. So thank you, I owe you one for that. Here’s your badge by the way.” You dig the badge out of your backpack and pass it to her.

“So was the sex good? I mean given your chipper mood, I’m assuming it was good.” She continues to pack her bags.

You feel your face burning up as Olivia pries. “It was good, but that’s all you get to know. And it wasn’t just the sex Olivia, we agreed to keep seeing each other, to go on more dates, I’m not really sure where that leaves us, but.” You didn’t want to go around sharing too many details about your evening with Jessie when the two of you hadn’t had a ton of time to talk about what it meant or how you would deal with telling people.

“That’s really exciting! The sex and the other stuff. Especially since the second we land back in Canada, you’re off your contract, you and her can do whatever you want.”

“Yeah, we’ll see how it goes.” You shrug at her before pulling out your own suitcase and starting to fold your clothes. You didn’t want to get your hopes up too high, you never knew how things could turn out.

It's not long before you’re loading your luggage onto the bus to head to the airport. You stay outside, helping load everyone’s bags including your Mom's.

She walks up to you, coffee in one hand and luggage in the other. “Have a good last night in Paris?”

“Yeah I did.” You try to think of anything except what your night actually entailed, you didn’t need to be a blushing mess in front of your Mom, it would give everything away. “Did you?”

“Good, good and yeah I did.” You notice her eyes drift to your neck for a moment and you think she’s about to bust your coverup in front of everyone but instead she hands you her bag and thanks you for helping. You breathe a sigh of relief as it seems she didn’t notice the makeup, knowing she would’ve made a comment about it to you if she had.

You watch Jessie walk out of the hotel, her own bags trailing behind her. Her eyes catch yours and she gives you a smile. It was a simple smile but it had your stomach fluttering. You watch her put her bags away before getting on her assigned bus. You’d only not seen her for a few hours but you were ready to be cuddled up next to her again, you wanted to just lay in bed with her, her skin on yours, your head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat while she ran fingers through your hair and down you back. You wanted to by lying there playing with her hands, your fingers interlacing with hers, gently scratching her palm, drawing circles across her skin.

The ride to the airport was uneventful and before you knew it you were through security and wandering through the terminals to find caffeine that you were desperately in need of. You find a coffee shop and hop in line before opening your phone to make sure you had enough music downloaded for the flight.

“Did I keep you up too late last night and now you need some caffeine?” You don’t even need to turn to see who it is, you know her voice but you turn anyway just to see her smile, her freckles, just her.

“Yeah, something like that.” You turn to look at the menu again. “I also just like coffee.” You say shrugging.

“Hey what’s your seat number?” Jessie clicks on her phone to show you her boarding pass.

“7C, where are you?” You check your own boarding pass before leaning over to read off her phone.

“Damn, 4B.” She says.

“Hey we got lucky on the way here, odds are it wouldn’t happen twice.” The line moves ahead of you and you order yourself a coffee before turning back toward Jessie.

“I’ll get hers as well.” You point to Jessie who squints at you before you gesture for her to move up and order. She orders quickly before quietly thanking you.

The two of you wait for your coffee in silence. You’re not sure why but there’s a tension, a feeling of unease in the silence. Your name gets called and you grab your coffees, handing Jessie hers, before turning to find a seat, Jessie follows. “Do you mind?” She points to the seat next to you.

“Go ahead.”

“I just wanted to talk, I should’ve found you at the hotel before we left, would’ve been more private.” She breathes out as she sits. The way she glances around almost to check if any of her teammates or anyone she knows is around makes you nervous. You feel a pit in your stomach.

“Oh.”

Jessie shakes her head as she swallows her sip of coffee. “It’s nothing bad! I just wanted to see where your head was at as far as what was happening when we’re back.”

Her reassurance puts you at ease but you’re still not quite sure what she means. “Um, well, I’m home for about a week before school starts up again. And then I’ll pretty much be there until winter and I’ll come home for break to see my Mom and then it’s back to school again.”

“I meant as far as us.” Jessie places her hand on top of yours that’s resting on the table before quickly pulling it back when she notices you looking down at your hands.. “Are you planning on seeing other people? Dating around at school? I get if you don’t want to commit to long distance or anything like that after only one date, I just wanted to see where your head was at.”

“I wasn’t planning on seeing other people, I don’t have interest in other people. Were you? Planning to see other people?”

“I also wasn’t planning on it.”

“Cool.” You swirl your coffee in your hand, not sure where to go with this conversation. It had always seemed effortless to talk to Jessie but now you were scared to say the wrong thing.

“Yeah.”

“So does that mean we’re…?” You don’t finish your sentence, you didn’t want to assume you were just seeing each other nothing formal and give Jessie the wrong impression but you also didn’t want to jump to relationship and make her uncomfortable.

“Dating? Yeah I’d say so.” She shrugs and takes another sip of her coffee while looking at you.

“Right but does that mean I get to call you my girlfriend, or are we not there yet?” You watch her facial expression carefully, the mention of girlfriend doesn’t seem to scare her, she blinks a few extra times and she glances off to the side, but she doesn’t look scared.

“You can call me your girlfriend, but only if I get to call you mine.” Jessie’s hand comes up to her face and she rubs her palm along the side, one of her nervous habits.

“So we’re girlfriends.” You state it like it’s a fact you’ve always known despite only deciding you were dating a couple of seconds ago. You can’t help but smile as the official label rolls off your tongue.

“Girlfriends.” Jessie repeats back to you with a smile.

You and Jessie sit until your coffees are finished and then you both make your way back to the waiting area. You let Jessie leave first, the two of you had talked more and agreed to keep the relationship quiet for now. You didn’t want to draw any attention to the two of you by coming back at the same time. The rest of the waiting time goes relatively quick. You sit, playing on your phone, talking, and stealing glances at Jessie who was usually chatting with Janine or Jade. You caught her looking back at you a few times, you’d both quickly look away when you made eye contact only to let your eyes wander back to each other a second later. You’re too busy staring you don’t notice the boarding announcement until you watch Jessie stand up and grab her bag.

You get in line walking down the jet bridge when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“Here.” Your Mom is behind you holding her ticket in her outstretched hand.

“What do you want me to hold it?” You offer, taking the ticket from her, figuring she had to adjust her bag or something.

“No, swap seats with me.” Her hand is out waiting for you to give her your ticket. You look down at her ticket. Seat 4A. You look up at her.

“It’s a window seat, I know having the window makes you feel better about flying.” She then winks, you see her eyes trail to your neck again. “And just so you know, you might’ve fooled everyone else, but I’m your mother, your neck doesn't usually have a paler spot right here.” She emphasizes her point by wiping her finger across your neck, then holding her finger up to you, the makeup rubbed slightly off. “But you’re an adult so I wasn’t about to make a scene.”

You turn away from her and pull your hoodie up hiding both the spot on your neck and the embarrassment that was flooding your face. You turn around quickly to thank your Mom before turning back around. The line moves ahead of you and you get onto the plane making your way to your new seat. Your seatmate is already sitting in hers.

“Hi.” You sit down, Jessie’s head whips to the side at the sound of your voice.

“What are you doing?”

“This is my seat.” You hand her your Mom’s ticket. “She traded with me so I could sit by you.”

Jessie pinches her eyebrows together learning how you got the seat. “That’s weirdly nice of her.”

“Yeah I’m not too sure why she did it. Honestly you’re lucky she’s not sitting here, you might not have made it through the flight.”

“Why’s that?” Jessie’s now looking puzzled for another reason.

“She’s my mom, she noticed the makeup immediately. Given that she traded me her seat so I’d be next to you I think she knows you caused it.”

“Whoops.”

You get yourself situated in your seat, getting out your headphones and water bottle before putting your bag away. The plane door closes shortly and you feel familiar nerves begin to grow.

Only this time you don’t have to tell Jessie you’re nervous. She must’ve noticed the way you gripped your water bottle a little tighter and she immediately stuck her hand into your lap. You grab her hand, lacing your fingers with hers feels familiar now, it’s nice, it brings back memories of your date, sitting side by side with her on the pitch.

“It’s okay, it’s going to be fine.” She leans over whispering into your ear. “Think of something else.” You did, the way she was whispering, her lips just an inch from your ear had you reminiscing of your night before and how she had whispered sweet nothings, praises, and also profanities into your ear as your bodies were tangled. You knew that wasn’t necessarily what she meant for you to think of, but it’s what first came to mind. And it helped, it took your mind off of the feeling of taking off.

Just like the last flight it takes Jessie all of an hour to fall asleep, only this time you don’t feel weird looking at her. Looking at her pretty face helps you forget that you were hurling through the air in a metal tube. She only catches you looking at her once. She adjusts from her nap, cracking one eye before telling you off for watching her sleep, all while smiling at you. She moves to put her head on your shoulder and she falls back asleep until you land.

Relieved to be back on the ground you’re thrilled when you pull into the Canada training center and your long travel day is finally coming to and end. Everyone begins to disperse in various directions, some of the players leaving, some wanting to bike or run after sitting on the plane all day, some coming in to unpack, most of the staff walking into the building to drop off equipment.

You make your way to your office and begin decluttering. It’s not long before you’re interrupted.

“Hey.” There’s a knock on your office and you look up to see Jessie’s face.

“Hi.”

“Whatcha doing?” She asks, watching you move around your office.

“Just organizing papers, I have to clear this office out and take everything that’s mine by the end of the week and make it usable for whoever’s next.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

“I don’t know, I mean I knew you were going back to school, I just, I don’t like the idea of this becoming someone else’s office.”

“I’m sure they’ll hire someone great.” You were sad to leave but you had to finish your degree if you wanted to ever find yourself having a fulltime job like this. “Did you need something?”

“Just wanted to see you.” She slumps into the chair across from your desk. She waits a moment before speaking again. “And I wanted to see if you wanted to spend the night again?”

You should be excited, here was your brand new girlfriend asking for you to spend the night, in her bed, not just some hotel bed, unfortunately you didn’t feel that excitement. “Oh, I mean, that sounds great, it’s just, I’ve really missed my own bed. I’ve been looking forward to sleeping in it for days now.”

“Right, of course, I forgot you had said that the other day.” Jessie pushes herself out of the chair, you can tell she seems embarrassed by your rejection of her invite.

“Babe, wait.” You accidentally let the pet name slip from your mouth in an attempt to get Jessie to stay. She turns back, she looks surprised and you immediately start to backpedal on your words. “Sorry, is babe okay? I didn’t mean to say it.”

“Babe is,” a smile interrupts Jessie’s sentence, she shakes her head and finishes “babe is good, I like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you want to say something?” She squints at you.

“Oh right, would you want to stay at my place tonight instead? Obviously if you’d rather stay at your own place I get it, we can do a different night.” You offer before you can really even think if your place is clean. Are the sheets clean? Is the clutter picked up? What if you had left it a mess in the chaos of packing? Do you have dirty laundry?

“Okay, I’ll have to stop by my place first, get a few things, just make sure everything’s good there, if you send me your address I can be there whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay.” Jessie turns to head out the door and you turn your attention back to organizing. You still had a good bit of paperwork to go through and stuff to put away but you could come in later this week to do that. Now your main concern was your apartment.

“Clean sheets, clean the bathroom.” You start muttering to yourself creating yourself a to-do list of items you wanted to tidy before Jessie came over. “I should vacuum.” You say as you bend down to put something into a drawer. When you stand up you’re startled to see Jessie back in your office standing on the other side of the desk.

“What are you still doing here? I thought you left.”

She nods at you. “I did, I came back.”

“Why?”

“Just wanted to do this one more time before it becomes someone else’s office.”

She grabs your hand pulling you out from behind your desk and brings you close to her. She drops your hand to move both of her own to your hips and she guides you to step back until you’re against the wall.

It’s as if you’re replaying your first kiss, only this time there’s more to it. It’s not just a tentative kiss with unknowns behind it. Her body is pressed to yours like it was before, only now you know what that feels like without clothes between your bodies. It’s a kiss you’re sharing as girlfriends, as people who have done this before. There’s no longer nerves, there’s butterflies instead. Her fingers caress your hips as your own arms loop around her neck holding her to you. You can feel her hair tickling your cheeks as she leans in. She’s still soft with her lips, they slide against yours and much to your dismay she pulls away too soon. You’re breathing hard when she pulls back, her hands still on your waist and your arms around her neck.

“At least we didn’t get walked in on this time.” She teases. “Okay, now I’m actually leaving, please don’t bother cleaning like crazy, I’d rather come over sooner than wait for you to make your place spotless. I know you just got back from a trip, it’s fine if it’s not clean.” Her hands fall from your body and she turns, you drop your own arms down to your sides.

“Alright, but maybe just a little cleaning.” You hold up your index finger and thumb making a pinching gesture.

Jessie just rolls her eyes and walks to the door before stopping herself at the door frame. “I’ll see you in a bit,” she hesitates for a split second before adding. “baby.”

[doliacuddles]

SHADOWS OF A MARRIAGE.

Distance in the Darkness.

𝖧𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇! 𝖠𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗑 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

❝In our gazes lie the secrets of a love that never had its chance, trapped in a silence that screams the tragedy of what could have been and never was.❞

The clock on the wall struck eleven at night when you entered the bedroom. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp, casting dancing shadows on the walls. The bed was perfectly made, with white cotton sheets and a lace quilt that reflected the elegance of bygone times. Next to your bed, there was a twin bed, equally tidy but evidently unused.

From the beginning of your marriage, you knew that the expectations of sharing a bed with Alastor were unrealistic. In those times, many couples slept in separate beds, a practice you both adopted without much discussion. However, the reality of that separation was felt every night with a pang of pain in your heart.

You slipped between the sheets, the coolness of the fabric offering a small comfort in the midst of the loneliness. The bedroom door opened, and Alastor entered, dressed in his silk pajamas, his presence as imposing and elegant as ever. He glanced at you, a mix of distant courtesy and analytical observation, before heading to his bed.

"Good night," he said softly, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

"Good night," you replied, your voice barely a whisper.

Alastor settled into his bed, meticulously adjusting the sheets around him. The radio was still on, its voice softly resonating in the background, a constant companion in the house. You turned off the lamp on your side of the bed, leaving the room in darkness.

Despite the physical closeness, the emotional distance was palpable. Each night, you shared this farewell ritual, a silent routine that spoke more of cohabitation than love. The loneliness in the twin bed felt like a metaphor for the relationship itself: together but irreparably apart.

Some nights, you found yourself watching Alastor's profile in the dark, wondering what thoughts crossed his mind. His eyes closed, his breathing calm, everything indicated a peace that you didn’t feel. It was hard not to feel a twinge of envy for his apparent serenity.

On one occasion, you broke the silence. "Do you ever think about how things could have been different?"

Alastor opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. His response was a whisper, barely audible. "I don’t usually think about 'what ifs'. I prefer to focus on what is."

That night, and many others, you curled up in your bed, hugging a pillow for comfort. The weight of loneliness and the realization that you would never be more than a companion in Alastor’s life crushed you. But over time, you accepted the reality of your situation. Alastor wouldn’t change, and you had to find a way to live in that truth.

So, each night continued, with the radio as the only witness to your darkest thoughts and unrequited desires. And although you shared the same roof and the same room, the distance between the beds was just a small fraction of the true distance that existed between two hearts that would never fully meet.

Intellectual property of @doliacuddles.

[onebnis]

first date w/ riize !

how riize would treat you on the first date, ot7 headcanons.

new bf!riize x gn!reader, established feelings, fluff, teasing, bickering, some cuddling, sfw kisses, no nsfw, theyre js cute.

if there are any typos pls ignore 😞💔 ,, will have a smau / text version of this soon!

💌 — requests are open! <3

★ — shotaro ?!

shotaro would most definitely take you on a picnic, he just feels like a picnic kind of guy. he’d pack so many cute little snacks and even make the meal into characters such as ‘ hello kitty ‘ just to see you smile. i feel like he’d just love to spend quality time with you. both of your feelings are already known to each other, but for shotaro, he just LOVES spending time together, no matter what you guys will do. watching other people on the grass while you talk about anything and everything, sharing old stories and listening to music.

★ — eunseok ?!

eunseok’s seems a bit basic, as he loves rocks, but he would definitely take you to a crafts store where you guys can decorate your own rocks / stones. he’d paint all sorts of characters while thinking of you and you guys would spend hours in there. might i even say you guys stay up until the shop closes. but at the end of the day, he would hand you a bag full of the rocks he painted and kiss your forehead. giving you the rocks as a first date gift.

★ — sungchan ?!

some people might think sungchans first date idea would be something energetic and interesting, but somehow i feel like he would much rather have a quiet, indoors, cuddle party. seems a bit much for a first date, but thats what pulls you both closer. you both take turns putting on your favorite movies, you watch old cartoons and make popcorn, even order pizza. he’d definitely be the kind of guy to have an arm around your waist, but waits for you to lean in first for a cuddle. he’d want you to be comfortable at your own pace. but once you guys cuddle, he never lets you go. <3

★ — wonbin ?!

i feel like wonbin would be so nervous and have a whole plan set out for your first date, but as you two go along the plans, it all starts to not work out. like he’d take you on a drive to a beautiful place, but on your way back, the car stops working. he’d get so embarrassed and awkward, apologizing so many times but that is why you like him, nothing is perfect. you like the reality of it all. being with him feels like a dream, but you get to help build the dream with him. you’d hold his face and give him a soft peck before suggesting to call a car shop, while you admire the view. so, in the end it worked out anyway!

★ — seunghan ?!

seunghan is definitely a disney land kind of boyfriend. seunghan IS the disney princess. he would love bringing you on his favorite rides and meeting his favorite characters with you. he’d excitedly show you where to get the good food and buy you so many plushies. he’d be so cute omg, you would find it so enjoyable to watch him be so excited about such little things. he would definitely also buy accessories to dress you both up like characters.

★ — sohee ?!

sohee feels like a gamer kind of guy, he’d take you do a gaming cafè, then to an arcade, and then back home to play more games. but he’d also be very competitive, you guys would have fun bickering and making bets on who will win which game. playfully push each other to try and make the other lose, i feel like he would lose a lot to you but the one time he actually did win, he would jump up and dance around before pulling you into a quick kiss. but he’d get so embarrassed and shy afterwards which you find just so adorable of him.

★ — anton ?!

anton would definitely want to do crafts and stuff with you. more likely, legos. he loves his legos, but you as well. you guys would buy all sorts of sets and take them back to his place to build them. he would put on music and then the building starts! i feel like even though you both like each other romantically, he’d be a great mix of boyfriend and best friend. you guys would bicker and push each other around to see who could build faster. but by the end of it, you won. at least you thought you did, anton would then show you his set. which was you. this man would build you with legos and give it to you as a gift.

FINISHED !

💭 — i might do another one of these with boynextdoor or even enhypen, so keep an eye out!! i hope you enjoyed this. <3 likes & rbs are appreciated!

tags : @enhaas @starchasing-cryptid @lavendersloane @academiq @wnyngz @wonhes

if you wish to be tagged in future works like this, send an ask & or a reply, and i’ll add you !!

[ghostboneswrites2]

Hear me out: Early Seasons Daryl vs Later Seasons Daryl

Early TWD Daryl would have been emotionally unavailable, snappy, cold, and the ways in which he showed his care for you were limited to bringing you back cool things from a run, defending and protecting you, and sitting in silence with you

Late TWD Daryl would be a more tender lover. He’s had some growth by now. He’s learned to care, learned to love, learned to feel and express things. He’d drape an arm over you in bed or place a gentle hand on your back when he walked past you. He’d hold you and tell you it’s okay to cry.

Pre-Alexandria, he’d shut you out when things got bad. Post Savior war and especially post-bridge explosion, he’d ask you what was wrong and try to fix things, try to keep you hanging on. He wouldn’t want you to slip down that slipper slope of numbness and emptiness like he has before.

Romance itself was hard to come by in the early years of the apocalypse with him. He might find you a flower or bring back your favorite snack now and then. He might even let you catch him staring. He might not complain when you give him a little kiss on his cheek before he leaves.

In later years, though, just his eyes could soften in a way that made you feel loved. He’d brush a stray strand of hair out of your face. He’d fix your shirt as it slipped off your shoulder. He’d stop and tie your shoe. He’d disappear up the stairs after dinner and return moments later to tell you he got your routinely scheduled bedtime shower started.

If you had sex with him in the early years, it would be rough and awkward and aimless. Erratic thrusts with no rhythm, little to no satisfaction on either side, and a lot of awkward silence afterward.

At the prison, sex would have gotten a little better, and he’d start to recognize that your feelings for him ran a little deeper than surface level attraction. He’d try to do things to show you that he cared too.

Until things for comfortable at Alexandria, sex would half after the prison fell. Nobody had the energy or emotional stability for sex or romance back then.

Once things got steady at Alexandria, you two would fuck like bunnies. A comfortable bed? Hot showers? Nothing was stopping you two from exploring each other and learning new ways to please each other.

When things would get crazy and chaotic and dangerous, the sex would be quick but passionate. Maybe he just saw you for the first time since he escaped the Sanctuary and he’d fuck you in the bathroom at Barrington house just to regain some sense of control.

Seasons 1&2 Daryl would often scold himself for checking you out. He’d sometimes wonder if you flirted with him, but he’d always remind himself who he was to the group and how unlikely it was that you or anyone would show interest in the likes of him or Merle.

Seasons 3&4 Daryl would be a little braver. Lingering glances, making excuses to talk to you, an awkward chuckle. But he wouldn’t take it past that. You’d have to carefully tread toward the first move.

Seasons 5-8 Daryl would be protective but withdrawn. He’d be so occupied with everything going on that he’d have little time to spend with you, and truthfully it wasn’t much different on your part. He’d miss you, though, as you’d miss him.

Eventually, though, after all of his growth and emotional maturing, he’d be a soft, gently, kind partner. He would become a man in so many more ways than one, and that kind of change would show in all aspects of your life with him. Be it romance or intimacy or day to day life.

In the early years, when you’d fight or take time apart, you’d wonder if it was going anywhere with him. If it was even worth the stress and emotional neglect.

But later, when you two were getting older and your relationship got stronger and kinder, you’d realize it was all worth it just to experience this side of him.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Extended Parting

Synopsis: After being separated from you for so long, Childe finally finds you again.

Foul Legacy x Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Comfort Warnings: Mentions of blood, physical injuries, fear, pain, crying, allusions to being attacked

Original Request by Anon: requesting requesting! beep bop beep bop ! more foul legacy × reader hurt/comfort, perhaps? :3

hear me out- in the format of a scenario; just pure comfort, reader is perhaps sent of to a dangerous mission/commission while childe is away doing his own thing. when he is going back home however, he stumbles across a group of fatui, taking the reader hostage & hurting them. foul legacy's reaction to his "allies" hurting the love of his life? and how he would take care of the reader after, assuming the reader got pretty severe injuries (even though they're not fetal).

Im a big sucker for this big boi getting all soft when the reader is hurt, and i wanna see more of him just holding the bleeding reader in his arms while trying to comfort them

~ * ~

Two weeks, three days, seven hours, and eight minutes. That’s how long you’ve been apart, how long Childe has gone without being in your presence, and he’s hated every second of it. Important commission, hah! No commission could be so important that it took you away from him for this long- almost half a month! All of your other missions took you a week, tops, and even then he could barely handle it, missing you more and more as each day passed without a single word or letter. Of course, he admits, it’s not like Childe didn’t also have his own duties to attend to during this time, this extended parting. As usual, he was forced to store Ajax and Childe away, slipping on the mask of Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger, and taking delight in violent diplomacy. But even fighting and bloodshed did little to satiate his longing for you; how much he wished to see your wonderful smile and that keen twinkle in your eyes, hear your lovely voice, cradle you in his arms and kiss your cheeks- Childe groans, burying his face in his hands. It makes him irritable, constantly yearning for you, and Foul Legacy is even worse. His Abyssal half is constantly clawing at the back of his mind, worrying his talons and whining as he asks why they haven’t seen you yet? Where are you? When will you be back? He wants cuddles something fierce, desperately seeking out the attention and affection you always give him only to find that you’re nowhere near. They’re both so lonely without you, only each other for company, and Childe has to physically bite his hand to prevent Legacy from simply snatching control of their body away and flying off to find you. With a sigh, the Harbinger wipes the blood from his blades, then his hands, and finally his face, ginger hair all wild and unruly. At the very least, today was when he would finally return home to Liyue. He never thought somewhere other than Morepesok could be considered home, but it turns out that “home” is wherever his heart is, and he gave it to you long ago to keep safe from everything that hurts.

Home… Childe’s mind drifts back to the house you both share, a small smile instinctively tugging at his lips. With a quiet snap of his fingers and a salute, his underlings are dismissed- they’ll be going back to the Fatui Headquarters in Snezhnaya. Childe, however, packs his supplies near the road back to the harbor city, waving the agents away, and the moment they’re out of sight his smile widens into a full-on grin, a delighted gleam in his azure eyes. 

Even just thinking about you seems to bring out the best in him, Foul Legacy chirping happily in the back of his head when Childe reassures him that yes, they’ll be seeing you again soon. If you’re done with that horribly long commission of yours, that is, which he’s sure that you are- even the most arduous never take up to three weeks. Despite being exhausted, he finds a spring in his step, dust swirling as his boots land against the dirt path. You, you, you- he’s going to see you again, his beloved and most treasured. Childe almost glows with energetic joy as he jogs, as if he never fell into the Abyss at all. His hand twitches, Foul Legacy begging and pleading to be let out after spending so long locked away, but Childe hushes him gently. You’ve said that you like it when he’s kind to Legacy and Legacy is kind to him- they are part of each other, after all, and you love both of them- so he tries to treat the monster as a friend rather than a weapon, and with a huff Legacy settles back down. Something faint and distant as the moon pierces the night, and Childe pauses, ears pricking. He tilts his head to listen, and for a moment he hears nothing but silence. Until- there, there! A scream! It’s far off, over the next hill, but unmistakably there. Even from a distance Childe can hear the desperation, the terror burning into his bones like a raging fire with a familiarity that makes him stop in his tracks.

No… no, it couldn’t be. It can’t be- Please, please let him be wrong- Childe’s feet carry him towards the sound, dread spiraling and twisting in his gut as another awful shriek rings out and he looks up, eyes widening. He was right. Oh, he was right, and he wishes he wasn’t, because it’s you. It’s you, gripping your weapon like a vice and covered in blood, expression filled with panic and fear and pain. It’s you, still in your adventurer’s gear, bag packed with whatever stupid, insignificant item the commission wanted. It’s you, surrounded by Fatui agents- not his, thank the Archons- the rest of them laughing and sneering. It’s you, hurt and scared and looking as if you’re about to collapse onto the ground and never rise. It’s you, and Childe’s veins freeze over with cold, splintering ice. You’re pressed against a ruined wall, swiping the blade in your hands at the soldiers, who merely snicker at your weakened attempts. The leader- one of those Electro vanguards with a giant hammer- smacks the weapon aside and seizes your arm, and you let out an involuntary yelp of pain as tears prick in your eyes. The yelp is all the motivation he needs, and Childe barely feels his restraint shatter like glass. They never even saw it coming, Foul Legacy throwing his spear and ripping the agents apart as fast as lightning, vibrant purple sparks searing the grass as he roars, driven only by wrath and fury. The vanguard who grabbed you so violently shouts in surprise and horror- then everything goes silent, apart from Legacy’s heavy breathing, claws dripping with blood. He exhales, curling his talons into fist with a tight crackling noise, letting out a low, guttural growl of rage. You bite down fiercely on your tongue, trying to stay quiet, but you can’t help but gasp in pain as the slashes in your body flare, and Foul Legacy’s anger burns away as quickly as a dying candle. He turns and rushes to you, chittering frantically, only to freeze when he sees you stiffen, petrified with fright. His chirps and trills lower to soft croons, gentle and sweet and familiar, crouching slowly to your height and holding out a hand. He tentatively inches forward, hand extended and palm up, claws curling delicately around your wrist when you desperately reach for him. “A-Ajax…?” Legacy’s Abyssal heart cracks, and he swiftly gathers you in his arms, whimpering and nudging his forehead against your cheeks as you cling to him and let out anguished, hitching cries. You suck in a breath when his talons ghost over a wound, and Legacy almost sobs with despair. Some part of him- the rational, trained soldier that is Childe- tells him to get you home, heal you, make sure that you’re well- he carefully gets to his feet, holding you close to his armored chest and adjusting your head so it’s pillowed by his lavender fluff. You shudder with pain again, and Legacy gently licks his tongue over the shallow scrapes on your face, cooing softly; with a flutter of his glimmering wings he takes to the sky, his arms cradling you like you’re made of crystal and gold.

He lands near your shared home not ten minutes later, hastily unlocking the door with the key he always sees Childe using. The house is quiet and a little dusty from being empty for so long, but your bed is as soft as ever as Legacy delicately lowers you down onto the mattress. Childe is the one who tells him what to do, again, guiding his claws to gently wrap your wounds with snow white gauze. None of them are fatal, and Legacy thanks his constellation with a grumbling sigh of relief. A quiet croon slips out when he sees you fading in and out of consciousness, sweetly cupping your cheek with a clawed hand- he’s shaking. Why is he shaking? He’s not the one who nearly died- but your hand comes up to weakly grasp his, and Legacy’s heart melts and breaks and patches itself up all over again.

Your lips twitch into a shaky smile, exhausted, your fingers resting on Legacy’s and soothing the minute trembles running through his body. The Abyssal creature- your wonderful, sweet Abyssal creature- blinks slowly at you, crystalline eye filled with tears that drip down his crimson face and pool in the divots of his mask as he fights to contain the sobs that threaten to break out, and when you reach up your other hand, covered in bandages, to caress his cheek, his breath hitches and he collapses into your arms, burying his head against your neck and weeping. In a whispered voice you coo and murmur and hum to him, repeated words of “it’s okay, I’m here, I’m okay”, and he tries so, so hard to do it back to you, his own sounds cracked and stuttering, something along the lines of “don’t leave, I miss you, I’m sorry”, or as close as he can say with a mouth made for biting and gnashing. Your hands lightly tug him closer- or rather, your hands tiredly loosen and he moves to follow them- until he’s close enough for you to press a soft kiss to his forehead. Legacy immediately purrs, tearful and whimpering, and your silent offer of lifting up the blanket is met with an instance moth monster at your side, curling around your body and holding you close. He’s careful not to squeeze you, trying to get as close as possible and mold his form around yours as you rake your hands through his fluffy coppery hair, drawing more deep, comforting rumbles from within his chest, the type he makes when you’re dreadfully ill.

Cats’ purrs are healing, so you’ve heard. Perhaps Abyssal beasts’ purrs are much the same. Slowly, your eyes begin to droop, and you yawn, exhausted and worn. Foul Legacy quietly nudges you, a croon of reassurance falling from his fanged maw, claws dancing over the wraps on your skin now stained brilliant red. It hurts, it hurts like fire- but you’re safe. Safe in your bed, and in Legacy’s arms, and the tension leeches from you and dissipates into nothing. You vaguely hear a soft melody, low and rumbling and familiar from when you’ve sung Foul Legacy to sleep, and the arms around you tighten ever so slightly as the sun finally dips beneath the horizon into the locked box of night. Two weeks, three days, eight hours, and thirty minutes. That’s how long Foul Legacy refused to let you out of his sight, even after your injuries had closed and healed.

[arcielee]

pleasures

jjk men x gender neutral reader headcanons

author's note: The jjk brainrot continues and this is some crack headcanons that come from the dredges of my mind. Thank you @lady-phasma for checking this over for my first attempt at a gender neutral reader and thank you my beloved @ceoofyearning for verifying my interpretation of the jjk men isn't too OOC. 😆

Banners & dividers by me. 🖤

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: Sukuna is in this, so dubcon, edging, mentions of domplay, overstimulation, implied unprotected sex and oral sex

Nanami is a considerate top when he is committed and in love with you. He’s always conscientious of your every reaction, the kind of man that would palm your scalp for a delicious pull of your hair at the roots, tilting your head back to look up at him while his other hand moves to cup your chin, your attention rapt to how he towers over you. 

You are squirming under his heady gaze, your desperation to be filled by him just vibrating off of your skin, but Kento would never rush his intimacy with you. He would be gentle to pluck each thread until you unraveled completely beneath him, until you were soft and pliable, boneless and simply begging for all of him. He would relish in the mess you made; he would touch your cheek again, a low hum as his thumb wipes at the tears tracks on your cheeks.

Even with you mewling for more, he would still restrain himself, savoring you, attuned to your every soft sound that spilled from your swollen lips. Only then would he melt into you, sinking slowly with soft kisses that littered every inch of your bare skin, and you would burn from his rasped and whispered words of encouragement. 

“Yes, just like that. You are doing so well for me. Did you need to use our safeword?” 

But you never do. 

However, salaryman Kento is an absolute dom, a man haunted and falling into a monotonous motion of the corporate world after he left Jujutsu High. The menial office tasks cannot make him forget the horrors that he knows exist, and a darkness will sear to the surface, vying for control. 

This is when he’ll go to a bar that is close by to the office he works at, his eyes burning to find someone who is in want of the same thing: to fuck until you forget, even if just for a moment. He is desperate for a sense of control again, and you are more than willing to help. 

He would still offer a safeword, and you would still never use it. 

Gojo is a pillow princess at heart and it amplifies whenever he finds himself in something that is labeled “casual.” The man has had a lifetime of people falling into his ocean-blue eyes, swept away by the mischief that sparkles in them–and you are no different hussy. 

Satoru will laze on his back, his hands tucked to support his neck, his stark white hair a mess and his bedroom eyes prickling over your skin. He enjoys the view, able to see the intimate hues that flush beneath your skin, your sounds made whenever he decides to languidly thrust upwards, his hips meeting with yours which makes you see the stars. When he knows you’re close, he’ll give you a helping hand to finish but only because he loves the way your warmth clenches around him, pulling him towards his own peak. 

If he becomes more invested, you’ll only notice it with the intimacy shared. In public, he remains as zany as ever with his lackadaisical persona worn as a shield, but it is only because the vulnerability to admit that he needs you leaves him feeling a bit raw. 

But whenever it is just the two of you, he takes his time savoring every inch of your skin, learning what it is that you like and taking note of what you don’t. He still dares to use his teleport technique to switch positions he is lazy. It is dizzying for you, but his touch quickly grounds you and the roll of his hips brings you back to the prior precipice and further. 

Your post-coital haze is your mutual comfort shared. You love his long and lithe body that curls to mold against you, and he loves how you fit together. He will lay there enjoying the thrum of your heart beneath your skin, his fingertips tracing while his six eyes are rapt to watch how goosebumps ripple in the wake of his touch. 

You can feel his gaze, but you keep your eyes closed and pretend to sleep. And he knows this, but he never minds it.

Suguru is a switch because your pleasure is his pleasure. Whenever you want to take command, he is happy to lay back with a trust that he pours into you, that empowers you, and makes you want to shower him with love and affection in return. 

He does not say a lot, but you are adamantly aware that he is enjoying himself. You can see the rose that flushes his features from your sensual ministrations, the plumes of color from the loves bites you decorate his chest and abdomen with. You preen under his gaze, the lustful black that swallows the amethyst of his eyes.

He is vocal in other ways: low hums and groans as your tongue slides up the underside of his heavy cock, his heavy breathing that builds until his climax spills–a thick pulse of pearly spend, hot and sticky on your palms. Suguru arches into the painful pleasure of how you clean him up, your tongue swirling his tip and suckling until he finally cries out. 

But he also loves when you allow him absolute control. He will tuck himself between your thighs, his large hands curling to anchor you to him while his mouth pulls a euphoria that you were not even aware existed before him. Suguru would not stop though, but continue until you brim on overstimulation, the kind that has tears spilling from your eyes. He would pause to kiss them away, but then he would manhandle you, his hands dimpling in your skin with a searing touch that sparks throughout your body, kindling a warmth in your core as he moves to meld against you. 

Despite his preparation, despite how careful he is to ease himself into you, he still has girth and thickness that always cleaves you in half. You cannot help how you clench around him, your warmth enveloping him with an almost sinful shudder. 

It is a slow roll of his hips to begin, until your fingers are clawing at his shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss that he returns with a passion that flutters to your nerve endings. His pace quickens and it does not take you long to build again, his thrusts pushing you back over that precipice of pleasure. Your thighs knot around his slender waist to help balance the stutter of his hips as he spills into you with a low exhale and another kiss before he curls against you. 

Hookups and flings are not something that really interests him, as Geto has always needed more of an emotional connection to spark any sexual attraction. And you satiate that, giving him so much more.

You are just his fuckhole at first, and he will dominate whatever he deems available for his own pleasure. 

“I don’t like getting off on my own,” is what he tells you when he comes up from behind, his arms wrapping your torso with his vice-hold, pulling you against his chest and his teeth sinking into your shoulder. He loves to mark you, admiring his bruising bites that decorate your frame.

You don’t want to, but you are burning from his heat, his proximity, and your body responds to him; your nerve endings are alight and you press backwards for friction. His dark chuckle rumbles through you before he pushes you onto the bed, enjoying how malleable you become with his commanding touch, how you clench around him when he thrusts deep to fill you; your mewling symphony only gives a rhythm to the brutal pace of his hips. 

If he decides to keep you, and even though his pleasure is his only priority, he will take his time to coax your body to handle him better. Simple gestures: a hand resting on top of your head while the other bites into your jaw to go slack, easing himself inch-by-inch into your mouth. 

Your tongue flattens to taste, to follow every ridge and vein–your strangled moans to fit him before your hand wraps around the base of his cock, fingers barely touching, and your jawline aching open. His hand will follow to cradle your neck with a slow buck of his hips to fuck your throat. You gag, your nails biting into his thick thighs to balance, tears pearling, but you won’t pull away. 

You are desperate for him and he knows this; a cruel smile curls across his mouth. He begins to thrust, a continued pace that bruises the back of your throat until spit dribbles down your chin and to your chest. You choke when he goes too deep and it vibrates through him. He hisses through clenched teeth, only then pulling back to flip you over. 

He pushes your face into the mattress, burying his length into you. Your hands claw at the sheets and his bruise into your waist, pulling your ass back to meet with his hips. He fucks you hard into the bed, splitting you open, his each thrust sparking something deep and primal within you. 

You come with a white-hot rapture that fractures through your body, boiling the marrow in your bones. Your mouth falls open with a silent scream, a sobbed release that shudders violently through you. 

You lay there a while, allowing the blood to flow again, edging back through your depleted veins and the air soothing your lungs. Your body jolts when you feel his hand wrapping around your ankle, pulling you back towards the edge. 

Sakuna gives another throaty chuckle. “Our night has only just begun, pet.” 

arcie's navi || misc fandom masterlist

[reddesires]

[Noa and life with the clan][Headcanons!]

Noa x Human!Reader

I live for Headcanons with the sunset trio, the fluff makes me smile so much. Noa, Soona and Anaya are so lovable and great characters that I just had to give my hand at writing bonding moments with them all.

•Noa often finds himself trailing after you and your siblings when the twins want to explore the land surrounding the clan, you find yourself uneasy but with Noa and his reassurance that it's safe you allow it. River tugs at your hand excitedly with soft hoots breaking through your cautious exterior, Water Lily seizing the moment to jump on Noa's back pointing forward as if he was her mighty steed. "Onwards!" Noa runs forward on all fours, River letting go of your hand runs after him with vigor leaving you no choice but to run after them.

• River and Water Lily made it a habit of pouncing on the clan leader whenever he's within proximity, he enjoys playing into their little game exclaiming in mock surprise. You can't help but laugh every time, seeing your siblings giggle and play with the ape is the most enjoyable part of your day.

• Soona has extended her friendship to you and you happily accepted, spending time with her reminds you of your time in your own clan. You two spend time weaving different accessories for either your brother and sister or the clan, you've grown comfortable of her braiding your hair and she enjoying your company.

•You've grown accustomed to being invited out by the trio, Anaya grabbing you by the hand and rushing you to Noa and Soona for the next adventure out and you giving a half suppressed laugh. Noa has made it his duty that he be your knight when traveling out and you can't help but roll your eyes at his babying of you, you being raised by apes for half your life makes you a decent climber but you don't make too much of fuss allowing him to carry you on his back while scaling the desolate buildings.

•Noa and you have found yourselves having hushed conversations by the communal fire on many occasions, you both confide in each other when your unsure of yourselves. You, of how could you possibly raise your siblings as well as you mother so easily did along with breathing life back into the cast of your clan's former glory and Noa, who questioned his ability as leader, if it was certain that he'll be as good as his father. The coos of assurement and solace, the atmosphere thick with uncertainty but understanding, his gaze shifting with emotion and your heart moved by it.

•You can't help but be drawn to Dar and her motherly presence, she reminds you so much of your mother and the feeling lingers as you listen to her speak. Dar looks to you in acceptance and kindness as you remind her of Noa with how much of the world seems to weigh on your shoulders.

•Waking up at the crack of dawn watching the sun rise in contemplation, Noa coming down to sit with you. "You can't sleep again?" He signs, a furrow in his brow lined with worry. You smile slightly a sigh escaping your lips. " The twins are relentless movers in their sleep..I don't know how my mother shared a nest with them" you chuckle, a defeated note dripping from your tired voice. Noa gazes at you and your uncertain what he's thinking but you shift into his side leaning your head onto his shoulder with a soft plop. "Thank you..for being here."

[lilacmingi]

LATE-NIGHT RAMEN

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Changbin x fem reader

Word count: 930

Note: Just a fluffy imagine about not being able to sleep and making ramen with Changbin 🥺

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The room was quiet, save for the wall-mounted air conditioner which blew a cool breeze towards you and your boyfriend. The sound of your legs shuffling under the sheets accompanied the sound of the air con unit as you tried and failed to find a comfortable position. You'd been squirming around for the last twenty minutes, though you tried not to, you just couldn't seem to get relaxed, and it didn't help that you were hungry. The glowing green numbers on the digital clock stared you down. 1:30 AM. A soundless sigh pushed past your parted lips.

"You awake?" Changbin's voice sounded from behind you on the opposite side of the bed.

"Yeah. You?"

"Yep. I haven't even dozed off."

"I can't get comfortable... and I'm hungry."

"Me too." Changbin chuckled.

You sat up, propped on your elbow as you turned to your boyfriend. "Ramen?"

Though the room was dim, you could see Changbin's face light up at the offer and you knew immediately that he was on board.

The comforter and sheets were flung back as you and your boyfriend slipped from your cotton cocoon to shuffle soundlessly down the hall and into the kitchen. Changbin made a beeline for the pantry while you pulled out a pot from the cabinet, the both of you working together to start preparing the late-night snack.

"You probably want a whole pack don't you?"

Just as the question left your lips, Changbin set down two packs of Shin ramen—a classic go-to for most people who lived in Korea. You chuckled softly, getting some water in the pot to start boiling.

Changbin stood by you, staring almost dazedly at the water, waiting for it to boil. He blinked languidly, leaning over to rest his head on your shoulder.

Once the water started to bubble, you tore open the packs of ramen and dropped the dried noodles into the pot.

Changbin hummed softly, beginning to sway the both of you side to side, your hands came up to rest on his forearms that were looped around your middle, chuckling lightly while he rocked from one side to the other.

Not a second later, you felt the sensation of his soft lips just under your ear, his fluffy and wavy mop of hair tickling your cheek. A shiver was suppressed as he trailed a couple more kisses further down, ravishing your sensitive skin with gentle pecks.

"What are you doing?" You questioned through small giggles.

"Passing time." He murmured, dropping another kiss to the crook of your neck. "Am I not allowed to kiss my girlfriend?"

A small smirk played at the corner of your lips.

"Of course you're allowed." You responded, bringing a hand up to brush through his fluffy locks.

Changbin hummed against your skin, his arms tightening around your waist in response to your gentle and loving actions.

You grabbed a pair of chopsticks and poked around at the noodles, separating them as they softened, adding in the packets of seasoning and dried ingredients.

"Mmm. Smells good." Changbin murmured.

"It's almost done."

After just a couple short minutes, the noodles were ready to eat. As if he could sense that it was time, Changbin grabbed a couple bowls from the cabinet, holding them as you filled each one with the steaming noodles. He wasted no time taking them to the table with some chopsticks for each of you.

Changbin took a large bite of ramen, reacting quite dramatically to the taste, groaning and leaning back in his chair. You giggled, always enjoying his enthusiastic responses to food.

"It hits the spot, doesn't it?" You asked with a grin, taking a bite of your own noodles.

He nodded eagerly in response.

A quietness fell over the kitchen, the silence punctuated by soft slurping sounds as you and Changbin chowed down on your snack, though it could hardly be classified as such. It was more like a meal.

You momentarily watched as your boyfriend ate, his already soft-looking cheeks appearing rounder as he enjoyed his food. There was something endearing and wholesome about Changbin eating.

"What?" Said man asked when he noticed you staring.

"Nothing. It's just cute watching you eat."

He gave a chuckle, that sideways smirk that you loved so much making an appearance. "What's so cute about it?"

You gave a shrug. "It just makes me feel warm inside, that's all."

He chuckled, his ears tinting pink at your words. Despite how he often admired his muscles and was proud of his physique, Changbin had some trouble accepting compliments of any kind even though you were constantly showering him in them. You merely gave a breathy chortle and proceeded with eating the remainder of your ramen.

Standing at the sink, you rinsed out the dishes you and Changbin had used, not wanting to leave them overnight to deal with the following day.

"You tired yet?" You asked your boyfriend while drying your hands off, sparing a glance at the digital clock on the stove. 2:00 AM.

"No." He giggled.

"Neither am I, but we should probably go back to bed anyway."

"And lie in there awake and unable to sleep?" Changbin frowned. "Why don't we just watch TV for a bit? We can watch an episode of that show we've been binging together."

His offer was tempting and you only had to think about it for a handful of seconds before agreeing to his proposition.

"Alright. One episode."

A part of you knew you it wouldn't be just one episode, but you didn't mind.

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Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

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[fantastic-fantasy]

TanFang have so much potential. They really deserve much more screentime. Like Fang slowly opening up to Tan about his feelings, about his parents being not present. So he had to take care of Phum as his big brother. But also about him feeling lonely and not loved by the people who should. (Because their parent put their work over the needs of their children.) Of course he has Phum. But again he doesn't wanna show any weakness toward his little brother. So he pushed it all down. He doesn't show that he cares. I think it's his way of protecting himself of getting hurt and disappointed if he expects to much. And I really would have loved to see Fang working through it. Slowly realising that Tan is here to stay, that he won't leave him no matter what. And that he loves and protects him, so he can finally rest. It's exhausting to keep the "I don't care" mask on all day, cause deep down he want to care. He want to feel. And I'm so happy that Tan is breaking down that wall, that he build around his heart, bit by bit. Getting Fang to open up. He showers him with love and he always has his back. At the beginning of the Serie Tan invited his friends out to go eat together. And why? Cause he's lonely too. They're two lonely soul that found each other and they find comfort in that. And I love it. I would love to see a deep talk of them. Laying out they're worries and getting comfort by one another. I need a cute cuddle scene of them.🥺

And I really like how Fang slowly opens up to Tan, just like in today's ep (ep 11). After noticing that Tan waited for him for so long, his face got all soft🥺 Him being thankful and sorry toward Tan result in him calling him "Babe". And I swear Tan could have died in a heartattack right there. He's been calling Fang babe since they started dating, but fang never said the word back. And finally he did. And I couldn't be happier for Tan🥺Tan deserves do much love and affection as well. He always tried to make Fang laugh, that's just his nature. He's the mood maker. But he also needs place to rest and reload his energy. So again. I need them to cuddle it out. The recharge their energy.

My point is, they could have made a whole show of them alone. They story has so much potential,... Hopefully we will see more of them in the future 😭

And gmmtv move your Ass and give them their own full length BL series and MAIN COUPLE!!!!